Blaine shut his own door before he walked around on the gravel of the driveway to open Kurt’s, so he could get him out of the car without him stumbling too much. The night air was cold and as a soothing breeze hit Blaine’s face it didn’t take him long to remember that Kurt had insisted on not wearing a coat, he worried that he might be trembling his thin dress shirt.

“Let’s get you safe inside so we can get you to bed without hurting yourself too much,” Blaine cooed, doing his best not to seem overly fussy while he let his husband rest his head against his shoulder while he unlocked the front door.

Once inside Blaine locked the door behind them and started taking off his coat, Kurt swaying dozily in the middle of the floor while observing him through the dark.

“We better get you upstairs. You’re gonna have a bad hangover tomorrow,” Blaine said and wrapped his arm around Kurt, starting to lead him towards the stairs. Kurt turned to let his arms slip around Blaine’s waist in a way that indisputably was meant to be discrete, but the alcohol had clearly taken up a foggy cloud around the brain center controlling Kurt’s coordination skills.

“Did you see the look on people’s faces? When the show started?” Kurt asked hazily, his nose digging into Blaine’s hair just beneath his ear. His nose felt like an ice cube, but beneath the surface of the haze, his voice was clearly ecstatic

“I did. They all loved you. Everyone will run around looking like badass Dalton kids next year, thanks to your designs,” Blaine chuckled and let his hands up and down Kurt’s back, hoping to let him regain a more healthy body temperature while he kissed his neck gently.

They had spent the night at the revelation of Kurt’s first collection as an upcoming ‘it’ fashion designer. All of the magazines and critics had predicted him to be ‘the next big thing’ - and what a better way to take on that than to work up designs he had been working on since he was 16 - a punk version of the Dalton uniforms.

“I am so proud of you. This is going to take you far, I am sure.”

Blaine thought back on how nervous Kurt had been the last few weeks leading up to the show. How he had snapped at the slightest things that threw him off course in preparations. How he hadn’t eaten anything the entire day leading up to the show- and then when they had arrived he had been forced to drink one glass of champagne after another with journalists and other designers, everyone wishing to throw a toast for the star of the night.

Only thing was Kurt, nor Blaine, ever really drank alcohol on that level, so it quickly went to his head; especially after having gone without food for more than 24 hours. In the end Blaine had made him submerge to lighter drinks every now and then, and Kurt had held his hand in a tight grip throughout the entire night.

Now that they were home in the safety of their house Kurt was still a little tipsy, and overly happy from the welcome his collection had got, so Blaine felt it best to try and herd him to bed so he could sleep, and hopefully lessen his hangovers a little bit.

“I’m not even sleepy,” Kurt exclaimed and suppressed a giggle against Blaine’s neck, and let a cool hand send chills through Blaine feeling that Kurt had dragged his shirt out of his pants and let his palm onto Blaine’s, now exposed, hipbone.

“I’m sure you aren’t, but you’ll be happy about it in the morning, if you let me take you to b…” Kurt interrupted him by letting his teeth grab around Blaine’s earlobe.

“Then take me to bed, Blaine. What’re you waiting for?” Kurt whispered breathily into his ear, while letting his fingertips down the hem of Blaine’s slacks, dragging him closer; Blaine now feeling very much why Kurt wasn’t tired, and definitely wasn’t planning on sleeping once they got to the bedroom.

He shuffled around so he could let his lips find Kurt’s. Kurt was a little more eager in the kiss than he was, he had to stop him midway to catch his breath.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go to bed. If you’ll kiss me when we’re there,” Kurt pouted and patted Blaine’s chest awkwardly.

“Of course. As long as you brush your teeth, you taste like you drank the entire champagne stash yourself,” Blaine chuckled lightly and started helping Kurt stagger up the stairs.

Despite a lot of problems from Kurt missing his mouth with his toothbrush, smearing toothpaste onto his cheek and giggling at himself. Not quite figuring out how to turn his t-shirt once in the bedroom. Blaine eventually - under a lot of suppressed laughter, gave in and they ended up crawling into bed, both of them in their boxers. As soon as Blaine was under the covers he was surprised by Kurt, fumbling to crawl on top of him.

“You promised you’d kiss me,” he smiled and let his cold hands run down Blaine’s naked torso, the low temperature making the hair on his neck and arms stand.

Kurt leaned down to let their lips meet and Blaine happily found that the heavy taste of sugar and alcohol had been replaced by fresh mint. Kurt was moving fast and determined, like he had an agenda, and Blaine was sure he knew what it was.

If there was one thing alcohol did to Kurt was that it made him horny - very horny.

“Come on, Blaine. I really want you right now -” Kurt breathed against his lips as he started grinding his crotch against Blaine’s, making him feel exactly how much he wanted him - which could only be categorized as a lot.

“Kurt. Baby. You are so drunk right now. I shouldn’t take advantage of you like that,” Blaine tried, even though he already knew that he wasn’t doing a very good job on convincing Kurt.

“Although it’s tempting, and…” he started, but was stopped by Kurt grabbing his hands so he could lead them down to press them squeezing on his ass.

“You’re not exactly being virtuous yourself,” Kurt grinned, and rubbed his erection against Blaine’s once more.

Damn being a man with lust so visible - it wasn’t like he was made of wood. When his sexy-as-hell husband started rubbing his hard cock against his crotch like that how was he supposed to resist? Well, I guess that does make me made of wood right now, Blaine thought to himself as Kurt started licking up his ear while his breathing made Blaine’s brain cloud up, then turned his head so he could let his lips move synchronically with Kurt’s.

“You want me too. I know you do,” Kurt whispered, his words sounding more as his elegant self now they were lying pressed close in the dark, like the alcohol had disappeared to make room for his lust for his husband.

“I do. I always want you, you know that,” Blaine whispered back, squeezing his hands on Kurt’s ass a little tighter, starting to consider that it might not be taking advantage of him when he was so willing himself, doing his best to fire him up.

Kurt bit lightly on his lower lip while staring him straight in the eyes before he started kissing his way down Blaine’s cheek so his lips nearly met his ear.

“Then let’s see if you like this,” Kurt whispered and let his tongue place a wet trail up his neck, before he moved down over his body, kissing his bellybutton while dragging off Blaine’s shorts.

It all went so incredibly fast, Blaine didn’t even have a chance to gather what Kurt was doing before he felt Kurt’s tongue licking from his balls, up his shaft and letting his lips down around his head. Quickly letting his head move, his lips locked around his hard dick moving up and down, Blaine thrusting out air, feeling dizzy, his fingers tangling into Kurt’s hair and gripping firmly to show he wanted more.

“Shit - fuck. Kurt,” Blaine groaned under his breath, not fully able to get out anymore than that with his thoughts clogged and his ability to speak that had completely deserted him.

Kurt’s lips were wet and soft, his tongue firm and warm, and his hands soft on Blaine’s thighs. The more he let his cheeks suck the wilder the fire in Blaine’s stomach was growling, and he was sure that if Kurt wasn’t planning on stopping he would come down his throat way faster than usual.

As if Kurt knew, which he probably did, he let his teeth lightly press down the frenulum, making Blaine moan sorely, before he returned to venture back up his body where he dumped down next to Blaine.

“Jesus - you can’t just… Kurt,” Blaine panted, turning to let his upper body in over Kurt’s to kiss him.

The taste of fresh mint was long gone, but was replaced by the salty taste of pre-come and cock, the natural taste of Kurt barely recognizable through the well-known taste of blowjob.

Kurt let his hands up to Blaine’s neck, pressing his head down to make the kiss rawer. As Blaine let his hand down Kurt’s briefs to close around his erection, a twitch ran through Kurt by his touch as Blaine started pumping his fist, twisting his wrist to make the fabric down, Kurt let his one hand down to get his underwear completely off.

Blaine could feel Kurt smiling through their lips locked together in motion, and Kurt’s breath thrusting hard into his mouth, while his hips every now and then jerked upwards letting Blaine know that he wanted more.

Suddenly the events took a turn, and out of nowhere Kurt fell stiff under him; his lips stopped moving and his hands had become still in Blaine’s hair.

Blaine panicked and raised himself to have a look at Kurt, and he could see the alcohol swimming back in over Kurt’s eyes that had started to roll around in his head. Blaine released his grip around his cock, and placed his hand on the side of Kurt.

“Honey, are you okay?” he asked nervously, fearing that the entire night’s consumed liquids were about to reappear, transforming their bed to a sponge absorbing whatever could come out of Kurt at that point.

“I don’t feel so good. Can we… sleep?” he muttered, sounding like he was feeling guilty, Blaine sure that he was.

“Of course. You aren’t gonna be sick are you? Cause I can help you to the bathroom,” Blaine assured him, letting his unused hand brush over Kurt’s cheek as he sat up in the bed, ready to help Kurt across the hall.

“No. I just… need to sleep. I’m sorry,” Kurt wailed apologetically, his eyes looking like they were about to brim with tears - another thing that usually happened when he had alcohol; he got overly emotional, and way too hard on himself.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s fine. Let’s just lay down, and you’ll be better in the morning,” Blaine assured him, knowing it was a partial lie. There was no way Kurt would be better in the morning. He would be badly hung over; his entire body would ache, he’d probably sleep on and off throughout the day, and Blaine had already faced that he would stay home and take care of him.

Blaine watched as Kurt relaxed a little, and turned to lie on his side, coiling up with his arms folded in front of him, his hands balled to fists against his collarbone. Blaine stayed hovering over him a little, watching him, making sure he was okay before he laid back down and wrapped his arm around Kurt, dragging him closer, hoping his now only half hard erection would disappear quickly.

Luckily it didn’t take long before Kurt was snoring lightly against his neck, Blaine bent his head down to kiss him on his hair, careful not to wake him up even though he knew that when Kurt was drunk it would take a bomb to wake him up.

After a little while with Blaine pressing his cheek against Kurt’s hair, waiting to make sure Kurt wasn’t going to wake up and be sick after all, he let himself relax so he could fall asleep, glad that Kurt had finally got his normal body temperature back.

*

Blaine could feel that it was still dark around him, he didn’t bother to open his eyes. He turned to lie on his other side, back facing Kurt, annoyed that he had woken him up when they had clearly only been asleep for a few hours - at least that’s how it felt.

He let his hand onto his back to find Kurt’s and after a little fumbling he found his wrist, palm clasping against Blaine’s back, nails digging into the skin of his shoulder blade.

“Kurt - are you already horny again? Thought you were feeling sick from all the champag…”

A hand was clasped over his mouth.  A hand he didn’t know. He could feel it, and smell it. His first impulse was to scream; even though he knew it would be pointless because no one would hear him.

Immediately his eyes opened, looking into the face of a plain mask. White plastic, like the ones you buy in a hobby store to let kids paint, with almond cuts for eyes, two small slits for nostrils and a crescent moon cut for a mouth.

Behind the mask all he saw was bared teeth and gray eyes staring back at him. The hand covering his mouth smelled like nicotine and whiskey, and he could feel that the strength put into just the palm over his mouth indicated that trying to fight it off would only do more harm to his situation than good.

Kurt.

He could feel Kurt kicking his feet desperately next to him, and when he looked to the side he could see that a figure was bent in over him too, also wearing a white mask with a hand covering Kurt’s mouth. It had to be, or Kurt would have been screaming.

Blaine tried to move his head to see Kurt’s face, catch his eyes, to tell him it would be okay, but he couldn’t. His head was locked in the position, pushed down in the pillow, unable to move either left or right.

A loud click was heard from somewhere inside the dark bedroom, possibly behind the man pinning down Blaine. A chill ran down his spine as he let his hand slide over the mattress under the covers to find Kurt’s, letting his thumb brush over his wrist, trying to calm him down. Make him understand that his kicking and fighting against would only make it worse.

After a brief moment Blaine felt Kurt’s hand move, letting his fingers slide into Blaine’s; his grip strong and panicky, making Blaine wish that there was something he could do to promise Kurt that he would get them out of this.

Then he realized that he had no idea what was going to happen next. These people hadn’t said a word. They didn’t have a chance of knowing what these people wanted, and Blaine was certain that if they were just out to rob them they wouldn’t have woken up them up like this. What they were after was something other than just valuables, and it made ice spread in Blaine‘s stomach.

“On the count of 3 we’ll let our hands drop. You are not going to make a sound; you are going to walk downstairs in peace, doing exactly as told,” the figure holding Blaine said, the voice a deep one belonging to a male fitting expectedly with the huge frame he presented.

Blaine felt Kurt clench his hand even harder making his fingers prickle from lack of blood, and all he could think of was how to signal to Kurt that as soon as they let go they should fight all they could, until the figure holding Kurt talked.

“And of course - if you as much as consider fighting back we’ll make sure you will regret it very much.” The voice belonged to a woman. It was light and dreading, mocking and arrogance dripped from it as she spoke.

As if they had planned it they both revealed a gun from behind their backs The male pointing his gun against Blaine, and he already knew that the woman was pointing a gun against Kurt, he didn’t have to see it to know it. Kurt’s nails were digging into the back of his hand, and he could hear him heaving for breath under the woman’s hand.

Blaine desperately kept brushing his thumb over Kurt’s to remind him that they needed to stay calm, obviously the plan of fighting not worth a buck. How had he not foreseen the guns?

He closed his eyes, and did his best to take a deep breath, struggling to filter out the stench of cigarettes and alcohol, before he opened his eyes, preparing himself to hold in the scream that had built up in his throat under the hand cutting off any sound in need of escaping his mouth.

“1”

He could feel Kurt tighten every muscle in his body.

“2”

He started to fear that Kurt might not be able to suppress the scream he undoubtedly had kept in too.

“3”

The hand left his mouth, and he gulped in a huge mouthful of air nearly choking him, as he dared to turn his head to check on Kurt, he saw Kurt’s eyes huge with fear, his lower lip quivering and his chest rising and falling fast in his heaving for air, like he had completely held his breath during the entire duration of the stranger’s hand cutting his mouth off.

The woman pulled the covers off them forcefully, making Blaine remember that they were both naked, a need to cover up Kurt’s body rushed through him before he felt self-consciousness embarrassingly floating in over himself.

A bark of a laughter shot through the room, and Blaine felt cold metal boring into his temple as the man’s eyes found way to their locked hands between them on the mattress, and Blaine knew that he would be forced to let go of Kurt’s hand once they were forced downstairs.

Kurt hadn’t looked to his side for one second, he had kept his eyes locked on the woman’s. Blaine wanted to beg him to look at him; to see his eyes, to make sure he knew that they were going to be okay. He also knew that this was exactly the reason Kurt wasn’t looking at him; because he was sure that they wouldn’t make it to the other side.

The man let his free hand grip around Blaine’s shoulder, forcing him out of the bed, his fingers digging into the hollow spot, and Blaine was positive that his knees were going to betray him from the pain.

They were led out of the bedroom and down the stairs, into the kitchen where the lamp over the table in the middle of the room was already lit. Two chairs had been put next to each other in front of the table where a big black bag was placed, looking very heavy, and he did his best to not try and guess what could possibly be in there.

Blaine could see that trails of dirt had been pulled over the kitchen floor, and based on that he knew that they had come in through the door to the garden.

They were shoved onto the chairs, and Blaine had to stop himself from stretching out his arm so he could feel Kurt’s hand back in his. He was certain it wouldn’t be tolerated, and he didn’t want to take the chance.

The faceless couple were still pointing their guns at them, and there was no doubt that they were building up a tension - the woman was tripping around almost like an excited child, and the man kept up his threatening position, every now and then following the woman with his head.

“And what should we do with you? We could get you to do anything really,” the man exclaimed, his tone leaning against playful, making chills run through Blaine.

The woman cackled as she crossed the floor in a ballet like step, the gun tracing over Kurt, keeping his jaw at gunpoint regardless of the angle.

Blaine kept staring at Kurt. He couldn’t leave him out of sight for a second - who knew what that, clearly unstable, woman could do to him in a split second. He needed to get ready if she as much as scratched his porcelain skin.

She found a handful of plastic strips, and with an unpredicted force took a handful of Kurt’s hair and forced his head down, her mouth so close to his ear that if it had been anyone else Blaine would have gone crazy for getting so close to his husband, for crossing his personal space.

“If you as much as move an inch, I will make sure your curly little man here won’t be here to see what’s going to happen to you, get me?” Her voice was steady and chill - not a hint of regret in her tone, and not a trail of the fun she had been having only a minute prior.

Kurt nodded desperately - or at least tried to nod, as good as he was able to in her grip, before she pushed his head forward and kneeled down behind him, letting the gun trace down his naked arm. Blaine couldn’t see what she was doing, but he was pretty sure she was tying up Kurt’s hands, making sure he was out of any chance of leaving the chair.

She stood up and walked around Kurt to face her partner. It wasn’t until then Blaine realized he hadn’t even noticed that they were wearing all black clothes. Black jeans not too tight, and black hoodies with the hoods dragged over their hair, clearly to make sure there was no way of catching details of their faces - but if they were afraid that they would see their faces, did that mean they were planning to let them go? It had to.

Blaine felt a rush of hope run through his veins, and he turned his head, wanting to tell Kurt. Tell him that they weren’t going to die, tell them that this would be over soon and that they just needed to be strong and hold it out - do as told, and they would get out safely.

“You keep staring at him. Can’t you leave him alone for more than a second at a time? Are you one of those guys that gets jealous every time someone else looks at your bitch?” The man burst out, and Blaine could swear that he was amused by his own words.

The man used his gun to force Blaine to look at him. His gray eyes were dead, and reminded Blaine of muddy ponds. He wanted to shut his eyes shut, refuse to stare at the man, rebel against what they were doing to them, but all he could think about was what consequences it might have for Kurt if he did anything to cross them.

“Or maybe…  it just may be -” the man started, sounding like he had just had an epiphany that solved all the problems of the world.

“…that it turns you on. Maybe you watching your sweet little bird tied up, naked, vulnerable - humiliated turns you on. Just maybe -” he continued, letting the barrel caress up Blaine’s cheek, and Blaine felt anger starting to well up inside him.

“You hear that, Hummingbird? Your curly boyfriend gets a kick out of watching you like this, isn’t that exciting?” The woman thrilled, suddenly sounding like a playful child, with a high pitched voice cutting through the atmosphere of the kitchen.

“No. No. Please - just leave him alone,” Blaine heard himself beg, wishing he could take it back, even before the words left his throat, and he could almost see them fly from his mouth and mock him as they materialized in front of him, before dissolving to a puff of smoke.

“Oh no, darling. Didn’t you see their hands.” The man grabbed fiercely around Blaine’s jaw with his free hand.

“These two… this - is - true - love,” he mocked, turning Blaine’s head from side to side with every word he thrust out, staccato style.

The woman danced around them, leaned down to look at Kurt’s hands, before she danced around to Blaine and grabbed around his wrist to look at his fingers, before she leaned down to let the cheek of the plastic mask press against Blaine’s - the plastic smelling fresh from the factory and her breath tasting like Big Red.

“My sweet lovebirds. Two men. In love. Their love confessed to the world. That is just…” she let the tip of her tongue out through the slit in her cover before she let it pointedly lick up Blaine’s cheek.

“…adorable.”

She ended with a girlish giggle, and Blaine felt like he was going to throw up in her face. The thought of her saliva drying on his skin felt like acid, and he could feel the single glass of champagne from earlier, including the salad he had for dinner threatening to rise from his stomach and splash out to cover her. Something he would enjoy to see, but also something that could very possibly mean excruciating pain for Kurt or him - or both.

“But now I can’t stop thinking - if you don’t want us near your… China doll - what are you willing to go through to keep us away? But even more important…” and she kneeled down between them, letting her hand slide up to caress Kurt’s cheek.

“What would he do for you?”

She jumped to her feet, and stared longingly at the man that had been looking down at her, the bad lighting making it impossible to grasp what he was plotting to happen next.

The man opened his belt, and pulled it from his pants before he walked around Blaine and started tying his hands together, so he was just as stuck to his chair as Kurt was to his.

The man walked back around to where Blaine could see him, and nudged his head to the right, the girl following him out of the living room up the stairs.

Blaine didn’t like the feeling of that at all, but the second he could hear the top step of the stairs creaking he looked to Kurt in panic, knowing they had to be quick to avoid getting caught in communicating.

Kurt was sitting with his chin resting against his chest that almost wasn’t moving, and for one horrifying second Blaine questioned whether he was even breathing.

“Kurt. Baby, please - look at me,” Blaine begged, whispering. Hoping for Kurt to react quickly, even though he knew it was a long-shot, remembering that he might still have some alcohol in his blood which definitely wasn’t going to make this experience any easier - by any luck it would ease whatever pain they might inflict on him.

Kurt slowly raised his head and turned it to look at Blaine. His eyes were red and a defeated look was painted across his face. There was something that hit Blaine in the gut, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was like something was completely off for the situation they were in. Had he expected Kurt to seem more upset? Had he expected him to cry? What had he even expected would meet him in Kurt‘s face?

Nonetheless he forced himself to regain focus and get out what it was he needed to say.

“Kurt, I need you to listen to me very carefully - they could come back any minute now, okay?” he hurried to say as hushed as possible, yet loud enough to make sure Kurt could hear what he was saying.

The leather belt was gnawing at his wrists, and he couldn’t stop rubbing them against each other as if he would stand a chance of getting loose.

Kurt nodded at him, and suddenly it hit Blaine that he looked tired. More tired than he had ever seen him, and it was scary. Kurt had already given up. He was so scared that he had given up on getting away from there alive.

“I love you,” Kurt whispered in a rasp, calm voice - and Blaine wished that he could grab around his shoulders and shake him powerfully until he started hoping again.

“Listen - they aren’t going to kill us, honey. If they were they wouldn’t be wearing masks. We just need to… do as they say, and stay strong and we will make it. I promise you that this isn’t going to be the end for us, okay?” Blaine didn’t move and he didn’t allow Kurt to move. He kept his eyes locked, not even allowing either of them to blink, and he slowly saw a spark of hope reignite in Kurt’s eyes.

“By any luck they will get bored quickly, and hurry on. Can you stay strong for me, honey?” Blaine asked, hoping to kick some more spirit into Kurt, hoping that it would be enough to give him the strength to keep his head high no matter what was to come their way.

“Yes. Yes, just… I can’t watch them hurt you. Blaine.. I just can’t -” and there came the tears. Strolling down his cheeks, leaving a wet path glistening in the yellow light bathing them from behind.

“It’s… it’s okay. If they do anything to me just… close your eyes, and wait for it to be over. The less we fight, the quicker they’ll get bored. I promise you it will be over soon,” Blaine kept going, clinging to his last sense of rationality, afraid that if he didn’t keep telling himself that it would soon be over he might lose his mind altogether - and he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave Kurt by himself tied to that chair.

The steps started creaking again, and a bolt of fear struck over Kurt’s face making the urge to hold him tight even more pronounced, and the feeling of him missing in Blaine’s arms even more painful.

“Kurt. Just close your eyes and wait for it to be over, don’t fight them; that’s what they want. And no matter what happens - remember that I love you, and we’ll get through this, together. Okay, baby?” Blaine rushed out as a last assurance, before he could hear the heavy boots on the linoleum kitchen floor under them.

“Well, well, well - having a little marriageable chat, are we?” The man asked, renewed arrogance filling his voice.

What the hell do you want from us? Leave us alone! Don’t touch Kurt! Blaine kept screaming in his mind, struggling not to let the words actually cross his lips, reminding himself of the precautions he had told Kurt only half a minute ago - don’t fight, that’s what they want.

The woman was standing on her toes, making her heavy boots seem nearly graceful, as she bobbed her head from side to side, looking from Kurt to Blaine and back to Kurt before she directed her attention towards her partner.

“I think it’s time for Curly to have a little fun,” she said in the tone of a mother talking down to her infant, and Blaine could see that her eyes shot in his direction.

The man did a hollow laugh from behind the mask, and handed his gun to the woman who shot out a trill sharp in Blaine’s ears.

He walked around Blaine’s chair, and Blaine kept his eyes locked on the woman, feeling Kurt’s gaze on him - but he was determined to not look Kurt in the eye if they were planning on hurting him in any way. He didn’t want to make it any harder for Kurt to witness whatever they had in mind.

The belt was slowly released from his wrists, and a river of blood streamed through his veins, making his fingers feel like they were stuffed into a bowl of needles; but somehow he could feel that what was about to come would be much worse than anything he had ever considered.

Two strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him off the chair and as he clasped down to lie flat on the floor. He heard Kurt give a gasp, before he felt the cold linoleum rushing through his body, making him immediately freeze all the way to the marrow of his bones.

He feared that he might start to shake from the cold, but he couldn’t let his body do that. He couldn’t let his body give them that satisfaction. He wasn’t planning on fighting back, but he wasn’t planning on serving himself on a silver platter either.

He felt the heavy boots stepping down on each side of him, and the man grab around his hair, yanking his head off the floor.

“I think you should get yourself up. On all four - isn’t that the way you like it?”

Blaine nearly expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. He let his one leg over his body to grab tighter around his hair letting him know that he was serious - he had to get up on all four.

The man let go of Blaine’s hair, and walked around to stand behind him, Blaine uncomfortable about the turn of events, and the second he heard a zipper he instinctively knew what was going to happen.

“Hey. All four he said - I’m sure you’re going to like it. It’s just of your taste,” the girlish voice teased, but the gun traced down Blaine’s ribs, making a shudder run through him, reminding him that he was naked, before he clasped his palms against the floor and forced himself up on hands and knees.

The woman looked behind him. Giggling by whatever it was that she was seeing, and Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, doing everything in his power to not look to Kurt for strength. Afraid to let Kurt see the pain he was about to be in, and embarrassed about the grotesque position he had been put in.

Before he could think any further he felt the warm hips of a man against his ass, and the cock of a stranger pressing against his entrance, making him sick and feeling his knees and elbows threaten to let him fall.

Was this really about to happen? And in front of Kurt? Please dear God let Kurt have closed his eyes, please, Blaine begged in his thoughts, before he ordered himself to not make the tiniest sound, hoping that way he would be able to spare Kurt of any connection to the event whatsoever.

But right as he felt the man press, burning running through him, Kurt screamed:

“No. Please - don’t - don’t. Leave him alone. Stop, please stop,” he pleaded and begged, and Blaine could hear that he was crying, and desperately fighting to get free of the plastic locking his hands together, getting free of the kitchen chair that he had been sitting so peacefully in less than 24 hours ago drinking his morning coffee.

“Please don’t hurt him. Take me instead. Please -” Kurt continued, his voice thick with tears, sniffing and wailing, the sound of chair legs scurrying over the floor hitting Blaine’s ears hard.

“That… actually is a good idea - that would take the excitement to a whole different level,” the woman cheered, clapping her hands together as if she had just won the lottery, the guns hanging from her thumbs like had they been toys.

Blaine couldn’t see through what her new plan was, but he already knew enough about her to know that it would be insidious, and humiliating. To Kurt. He had begged them to take him instead, and now that was exactly what they were planning to do.

Kurt was going to be raped, and there was nothing he could do about it. Blaine knew that if he tried stopping them either he or Kurt would be killed - or at least shot somewhere very crucial to have intact for anyone wanting to live a normal life.

“No. Don’t. Not Kurt, not Kurt. I’ll do anything,” Blaine cried, not caring anymore that he needed to seem strong, and was supposed to play by their rules.

Blaine felt a gun to the back of his head, and he knew that any movement could mean the death of him, so instead he opened his eyes and he could see that Kurt wasn’t in his chair. He didn’t dare look for, or even ask for him - fear was curled up to the size of a basketball in his throat, and he had stopped keeping track of their plans long ago, because they were way to unpredictable.

“We wouldn’t want you to think we have anything against gays, would we?” the man barked with laughter again, and the sound of his boots adjusting their foot on the floor hit Blaine’s ears.

“So let’s all celebrate your love, shall we -”

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Blaine -” he heard Kurt crying from behind him, and he had no idea what was going on until he felt it, and there was no question that this was how it was.

He felt Kurt pushing into him, the lack of lube and pre-stretching shooting a fire of pain through him. Kurt pulled himself out, and pounded back in all the way, Blaine sure he was about to burst and his elbows nearly failed him, Kurt crying “I’m sorry” with every thrust of his hips.

He wouldn’t think about how they had made Kurt go hard enough to do this. He didn’t want to face that they had touched him, felt him up, touched him in places only Blaine was allowed to touch him.

He could feel big, fat tears running down his face, and he had to stop himself from crying for Kurt to at least hold him - all he needed was to at least feel Kurt’s hands softly against his skin. To feel that connection between them, to let at least some sort of normality be. They had never had sex without their hands connecting, and even though this was the furthest thing from sex, the intimacy and love-making they shared, he needed that assurance that it was Kurt - that no one else but Kurt got to be inside him.

The pain was unbearable, and Kurt’s thrusts got heavier and more aggressive each time, and the woman squealed equally higher, making Blaine think that the man was possibly holding a gun to Kurt’s head, and his hands were still in strips.

“Please. No more, just… no more,” Kurt begged and paused, Blaine’s entire ass sore and the pain throbbing through every fiber of his body.

Kurt was still inside him, all the way in, and in some way it was a comfort; that Kurt at least hadn’t been dragged away from him, that he was still there.

It was horrifying that Kurt’s cock, something that usually made him excited and lustful, horny and every cell of him eager to play - could inflict such pain on him.

Kurt pulled a little out, and Blaine felt him dare to bend down and kiss the spine of his arched back as Kurt thrust back in whimpering “I am so sorry. Please forgive me, baby.” Kurt’s tears tickled as they ran down Blaine’s back, over his ribs, down to end at his nipple and dripped to the floor.

For some reason Blaine couldn’t stop remembering the few times they had tried with Kurt  as top. Blaine had always been top, and it just felt more natural that way - but twice had they tried reversing the roles, and both times had they agreed that it didn’t feel right. Kurt had said that he felt more safe and unexposed with Blaine being on top, and he felt the same way, so that was just the way it was.

Now here they were; Kurt forced to top - but it couldn’t exactly be categorized as true intercourse this way, could it?

Kurt was actually threatened to rape him, and neither of them could do the slightest thing about it.

And it stopped. He felt Kurt pull himself aggressively out, indisputably by force, and Blaine’s muscles tightened in reflex, immediately reacting to the loss of Kurt inside him - all of his muscles flaming, and his knees and elbows unable to carry him anymore, letting him crash to the floor once again.

He could hear Kurt crying, whimpering behind him, his solo of apologies, as his own lungs were struggling to get his breathing steady, and his heart fluttering to find a natural pace again.

He wanted to turn around - to face Kurt, telling him that it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault. That he still loved him.

But he couldn’t.

All of his muscles were locked, and even though he tried convincing himself to get up nothing worked. He could hear the woman cackling at a place behind that had to be close to Kurt, and the man drawing in heavy breaths, probably incredibly turned on by the violent scenery, Blaine thought.

“Please. He’s in pain,” Kurt cried again, this time with more force than Blaine had heard him all night. He was angry, furious, and Blaine feared that he might do something reckless. He took a deep breath and ignored the ache in his neck as he turned his head around to see Kurt, the man held both of his big hands locked around his shoulders - Kurt’s naked frame shaking, and he seemed paler, smaller, more fragile and vulnerable than he had ever seen him, as if he could turn to dust any second.

Kurt’s eyes met his. Wet with tears, almost swimming, filled with anger and fear, and the urge to have him back in his arms flushed over Blaine like a waterfall.

He demanded of himself to get back up; crawled to his elbows so he could turn around, and there he hurried to his hands and knees so he could crawl the few feet across the floor to Kurt every single movement like lava burning him up. Kurt dropped to his own knees, Blaine not knowing why their hostage-takers let them do this, but not caring - all he cared about was to assure Kurt that it wasn’t his fault.

Kurt was shaking powerfully in front of him, and tears were running down his body, his sobbing uncontrollable. Blaine could feel the monstrous couple glaring at them as he fought his way up to sit on his knees, spiting the hurt, so he could place his palms on Kurt’s cheeks and force him to face him. His eyes were closed though, seeming like they had been sewn together, never planning on opening ever again.

“Kurt. Look at me. LOOK AT ME!” Blaine thundered, knowing the he had to, to make Kurt react, and there was no way of knowing when they would be torn apart again, and what would happen then?

Kurt sobbed heavily a good few times before he finally opened his eyes, struggling to avoid meeting Blaine’s gaze, but no matter how much he turned or looked the other way Blaine made sure to catch him again. Until he finally realized he couldn’t escape and held still, looking into Blaine’s eyes. Kurt’s eyes filled with sorrow and apologies, pain and anger, everything boiling and screaming in rage.

“Baby. I love you. Okay? Remember what I said - no matter what happens. I… this wasn’t you, and no one can take me away from you. Please, understand that, don’t blame yourself,” Blaine wailed, his words shooting out like fireworks, and his voice breaking every other second, his pitch constantly ranging between high and low.

He fastened his grip around Kurt’s jaws, telling him that he needed him to agree, he needed him to say that he understood.

“I’m so sorry I did that to you, Blaine -” Kurt repeated himself, and Blaine felt himself start to get angry. He was wasting precious time by not just understanding and agreeing that this had nothing to do with them, and that this had nothing to do with the love they shared.

“Stop saying that!” Blaine screamed at him, surprised at his own rage shining through, instantly regretting, but seeing the words slowly sink into Kurt’s mind, watching them take root and fall into place, before he sniffed one last time, the tears gone from his eyes, and the strength he had always seen in Kurt, loved in Kurt, starting to grow back.

“I love you, Blaine. Just… I love you,” he said, chin up and nothing but cold anger and strength left in his eyes - the will to stay strong and fight was back.

“Alright. That’s enough - boring!” The woman yelled, and grabbed around Kurt’s arm, forcing him off the floor, and putting her boot against Blaine’s chest kicking him down on his back, making him remember the pain of a tub full of needles in his ass, making him wince, squeezing his lips together - determined not to give them a sound of his pain.

When he opened his eyes again he saw Kurt back on the chair. His face was still drenched in tears, but his expression was cold and hard, giving Blaine a hope that he might be able to resist and not give them anymore reason to hurt him.

Large red and dark bruises from the woman’s fingers were starting to blossom at Kurt’s arm where she had grabbed him, and Blaine wanted to run to kiss them away and hold him close to let him cry out.

The woman started pacing the floor, her boredom clearly showing and her impatience for something to happen started presenting itself through silent groans from the back of her throat.

She squatted to take a grip on Blaine’s arm and practically carried him to his chair, his legs refusing to help him. He could feel tears still streaming down from his eyes, and he was afraid that if he looked down he would find blood down his thigh, running from his abused anus.

Next to him Kurt was sniffing and whimpering, but he wasn’t sobbing anymore - he was fighting to stay strong like he had promised. Blaine couldn’t help but admire how quickly Kurt had got to his senses after Blaine had shaken him. It was like he knew that Blaine couldn’t stay strong much longer himself.

Out of nowhere pain lashed over Blaine’s cheek. Metal scratched his skin, making heat rise with the speed of lightning.

“Don’t hurt him. Aren’t you satisfied with what you put him through? Leave him alone!”

Kurt’s voice was high pitched and desperate. Blaine could hear him struggle to try and get his hands free, to get off the chair - whether he wanted to rush to Blaine’s side or to attack his husband’s violators Blaine didn’t know, but he wished badly that Kurt would calm down so they wouldn’t have an excuse for molesting him too.

Blaine could smell the blood before he felt it. Sweet, nauseating, liquid metal making his stomach roll, and a memory hit him.

It had always seemed weird how perfect he remembered this to the tiniest detail. Now that it presented itself to him in this hopeless situation he wanted to cling to it with the last piece of sanity that he had left. Desperate not to let it fade away from him - like this was a promise that they could get back to this, and not let these terrible events eat up their happiness once they got away.

It was in the middle of the night - more like in the morning. Kurt had been up all night, and Blaine woke up to find the bed empty, he walked down the short hall of the tiny apartment they were living in at the time. As expected he found Kurt at the small table in the middle of the kitchen, sewing on his wedding outfit that he had insisted on creating himself from scratch. From designing it, to drawing the patterns, buying the right fabrics and the accessories.

“Kurt, shouldn’t you come to bed? Hours ago you said it would only be a minute, and now it’s almost dawn,” Blaine had yawned while leaning against the doorframe, not quite sure he was entirely awake, but feeling the cold creep around him, now that the covers weren’t there to hold him warm - he hadn’t really been much warm there either. Not without Kurt next to him.

“Blaine. You can’t be here. If you see my outfit it’s bad luck,” Kurt panicked at him, before he cried out, jumping from the chair, holding his hand as far from the fabric as possible. Blaine ran the few feet across the room to grab Kurt’s hand, to see what had happened.

That’s when the sweet, nauseating, metallic smell hit his nostrils and his stomach started preparing to let go of the coffee he had consumed before he went to bed.

“Just go to bed, okay? I’ll come in a minute -” Kurt snarled at him as Blaine tried leading him in the direction of the sink. When he saw the thick red down Kurt’s wrist he felt dizzy, but panic started crawling up his spine and throat because he couldn’t see where or how severe the damage was.

Blaine forced Kurt’s hand under the cold water and watched the dark red slowly turn pink as it washed off his hand, and the flowing became lighter soothed by the cold. A long cut showed where his wrist turned to hand, disturbingly close to his veins.

“I didn’t look. I promise. I was too busy saving you from bleeding to death -” Blaine leaned in to kiss Kurt’s temple, frantic to find something to distract him from the horrible smell that was cutting its way to his brain, fighting from his nose to land on his tongue, making him taste it.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just want this to be perfect. I don’t want to be standing ready to take my vows in two days and realize that I got it all wrong,” Kurt apologized, and Blaine knew that a heavy flood of frustrations were waiting on his tongue to be released.

“All I want to think about is you, and how Rachel probably will try stealing our spotlight, and how Jeff will try to get with Santana again even though we told him so many times she’s a lesbian. I don’t want to worry about fabrics, or colors, or accessories and flowers and…” He paused and rested his forehead against Blaine’s, forcing himself to not wince from the sharp feeling of the water rinsing his cut.

“Just you. And how my knees will go weak when I see you at the end of the aisle, and if I am going to mess up when I give you my vows, and… that we’re going to be married. Just you. That’s all I want on my mind. Just you,” Kurt blabbered out, gulping in a mouthful of air, and Blaine was happy that the dimmed light was hopefully hiding the tears in his eyes as he felt his heart swell from Kurt’s declaration.

“It will be perfect, babe. I promise. You have worked your butt of to make it perfect, and it will be magical - and if Rachel tries making it all about her we’ll have Puck and Finn kick her out. You are the star,” Blaine assured him, and both of them giggled, when it occurred to Blaine that his fingers were completely numb from the water.

That had been their last night together before their wedding. The following night Kurt had been staying at his dad’s place, and Blaine had gone to his parents’ - following the traditions, no matter how horrible it felt to be apart, even if it was just for a few hours.

And now they were sitting here - hostages in their own house. The home they had carefully picked out and made their own, together. The house where they had started their true adult life, their married life - the home where they only a few months ago had decided to let in a child, a kid that would be theirs. A kid they had started planning a nursery for, a kid for whom they had filled out endless piles of adoption papers in hope they would accepted.

And now that home would forever be ruined. It would never be the same, and all of the good memories they had made over the years would forever be in the background of this one horrifying night.

Blaine had already decided that as soon as this was over he would take Kurt to the car and drive. As far away as possible. To Kurt’s dad’s house. Because if Blaine couldn’t keep his husband safe, only his dad could do that job.

Blood started forcing its way into his mouth, tickling his lips, and he could feel that it was only a matter of seconds before he would truly puke, but this time he didn’t care in the least. He just wanted this nightmare to be over.

“I’m bored. Aren’t you bored?” the woman pouted, and made a quick movement to let a slap form a red handprint on Kurt’s cheek, a forceful and loud smack from her free hand.

Kurt didn’t as much as whine, and Blaine’s first impulse was to tell him that he was doing good and it would soon be over, but he bit his tongue to stop himself. That was the kind of things that would only provoke them to get rougher.

“Leave him alone. Please. Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt him,” Blaine begged, and it was like his wedding ring had suddenly got 10 pound heavier than usual on his finger. Maybe he could be lucky and they would accept his open invitation and completely forget about torturing Kurt.

“Yeah. This is getting redundant,” the man said, ignoring Blaine’s outburst, not as much as eyeing him out. His voice was dragging and Blaine was positive that he was rolling his eyes under the mask.

Redundant? It was getting redundant to mutilate their bodies, and force them to hurt each other?

“I think it’s time to play a little game. Don’t you just love games?” he asked, and even through the mask Blaine could see excitement wash over the woman’s face.

“A game? This is a game to you? You sick, evil, twisted psychopaths,” Kurt screamed out of nowhere, making Blaine jump from the startle, a reminder of the faming in the entire lower part of his body boiling back into him.

“Well, you just made a very tough decision for us, Hummingbird,” the woman announced and let her nails scratch up the still red and visible mark on Kurt’s cheek.

Blaine did in no way like the sound of that. Whatever was to come was something where they had to choose between them, and apparently Kurt had just spared them going through those troubles. This could only mean something very dreadful was about to come; but what could be worse than making them rape each other?

The woman threw her head back in a cackle, as a loud click sounded through the kitchen, and it made Blaine turn to ice, he could feel Kurt going stiff next to him too, not as much as his breath escaped his lips.

A click - the sound of a gun being loaded.

The couple circled around them for an excruciating amount of time. The suspense was killing him, and he knew that he wasn’t tied to the chair, so if he wanted he could just attack them. The only good that would do them would make the whole situation worse. They would get angry, and take it out on him. And Kurt.

By now they would know that they would be willing to do anything to protect each other, so of course they were going to take advantage of it one way or another. It would all be in good fun to them.

The man let his gun slide harshly up Blaine’s arm while he stood behind him. Blaine could feel him leaning in. His hot breath moistening his ear and neck, making Blaine twitch. A shot of pain ran through him from his ass through his spine, making him bite down in his lips, feeling his eyes watering again.

“You liked feeling me, didn’t you? I’m sure you did. You were just waiting to feel me pound into that tight little ass of yours,” the man drawled his words, making Blaine feel like he was inside his brain, strolling around in there, watching his memories from good and bad times. Private memories. Memories that weren’t for anyone but him and Kurt to see.

“No. I only fuck men -” Blaine spat out, fury welling up in him, frantically looking for a way to get this monster out of his head, and he didn’t so much as cringe when the slap forced his head to the side, making him feel like the skin of his, up-until-now untouched, cheek was on fire.

“Get up. GET UP, YOU LITTLE FAG!” The man roared at Blaine, kicking the chair he was sitting on, thrusts of pain making his muscles refuse to cooperate - but eventually he finally got to his feet, only now realizing how cold he was from having been naked for an unknown amount of time.

He had no idea how long it had been since they had come home from Kurt’s show, or how long it had been since he had been lying in their bed with Kurt’s lips closed around his cock. How long it had been since he had been kissing Kurt deeply with his fist pumping around his erection, or how long it had been since they snuggled up so Kurt could sleep out his alcohol-buzz. He didn’t even have the slightest idea how long it had been since intruders in their bedroom had woken them up and forced them down in the kitchen to take place on the chairs they usually seated during meals.

There was no doubt that the man was angry, and it was Blaine’s fault. He shouldn’t have said that, and he was going to pay for it in some way, and he was going to regret it - but it had been so worth it in the moment.

He could feel nails digging into the flesh of his arm, and a strong hand forcing him to turn around so he could face Kurt. He closed his eyes, determined not to face Kurt in this condition, he didn’t want this to be the way he saw Kurt in his mind in the future. He wanted the boy he fell in love with, the boy that proposed to him, the man he married and the man he was about to start a family with; not a scared, shaking, shell of that man, abandoned of all kind of hope.

He felt his arm being lifted and he had no idea what was going on, until he felt it - the cold in his hand. The hand of a stranger closing his hand around the metal.

He was pushed forward, pushed to his knees in front of Kurt, their faces only an inch from each other. If he wanted he could crane his neck and kiss him - but all he could do was stare into his eyes, forehead against forehead, feeling Kurt’s breathing on his lips, and tasting his tears on his tongue.

Kurt was back to sobbing hysterically, and Blaine feared that he might start screaming again, so he leaned in to let their lips meet - a brief second to mute the sounds he so unwillingly expressed through his fear.

The feeling of Kurt’s soft lips pressed against Blaine’s made a feeling of relief and comfort run through him. Their home had been terrorized and had become the house of nightmares, but Kurt’s lips still felt like home - the only home he would ever need to feel protected. Even though his hand was closed around a gun, and he had no idea what was about to happen.

“Enough of that. It’s disgusting -” the woman cringed repulsed and stomped her heels, pushing the man that was still holding around Blaine’s arm.

“If you move, you’re dead. Got that?” the man asked, his mouth back to Blaine’s ear again, and he grabbed around Blaine’s shoulders and forced him to sit down on his knees, forced his face away from Kurt, so they had no other choice than to stare helplessly at each other.

“Do you love your little… Hummingbird?” the man snarled as he started pacing up and down the floor behind Blaine. He wanted to turn his head to get a view of where the couple was behind him, but he was afraid that if he moved it would be the end.

“ANSWER ME! Do you love him?” the man roared, clearly still outraged.

“Yes. YES Godammit! Of course I do!” Blaine spat out, his voice so thick that his words nearly disappeared on their way out.

For some reason this made the woman giggle like a little girl playing dress up. She sounded ecstatic, and thrilled with this turn of the events of the night.

“Then I guess it’s time to see just how much you actually love him,” she squealed, and Blaine could hear her trip around, dancing around, the kitchen floor, clapping her hands in sheer excitement.

“How far - are you willing to go - for the one you - allegedly - love?” The woman’s nauseatingly sweet girlish voice cooed as she walked around to let her fingers run up and down Kurt’s arms, staring coldly into Blaine’s eyes, the white mask scarier than it had been the entire night.

“What? Just tell me what to do?” Blaine screamed at her, nearly spitting Kurt in the eye, but that wasn’t important.

The gun felt like it was getting heavier by the second. All he could think about was to let it drop to the floor, but he didn’t dare to - because he couldn’t know what the consequence would be if he did, so he kept it locked safely in his hand, convinced that he would never in his life need to pull the trigger and that he would never in his life need to be near a gun ever again as soon as this was over.

The woman walked around him, grabbed a handful of his curls and yanked his head back, making sure he could still have a clear view to Kurt, forcing them to keep eye contact.

“Here’s the rules, Lover Boy - you either let your little bird here go through what you have just been….” she made a kissing sound in his ear, grabbing a little firmer around his hair.

“…only this time we might not be so generous as to let you fuck him. We might find better, bigger, things to do the job. But I’m sure he likes big things up his ass - you aren’t so little yourself after all. The woman’s voice was teasing, and her free hand was tracing patterns up and down his arm, caressing him, hatred burning in the pit of his stomach.

“Of course we’d make you watch the show. We can’t have you missing the tiniest detail of it - maybe you’ll even get a kick out of it. Pick up a few tips. Maybe we’d make you a part of the show. And we wouldn’t cheat you for a little fun-time more. Yeah, we’d definitely give you that joy again,” she thrilled, her pitch running down Blaine’s spine, and he felt every cell in him cramp up, convincing himself that it would be no good if he punch her in the face with the shaft of the gun, as satisfying as it would be.

“But - we also have a second option for you,” she cooed, and let her long nails dig so deep into his skin that it would only be a matter of seconds before blood would start dripping down his arm.

“You have one chance of sparing him. Saving him. Make sure he won’t go through all of this, that you have just tried yourself - maybe even more…” she paused, dramatically, no doubt that she was enjoying this.

“What? Tell me what the hell to do? Just say it and I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt him, please!” Blaine wailed, the words rasp and sore through his throat, the awkward position making it hard for him to breath.

“Kill him! And you will go free,” she whispered and let go of his hair, thrusting him to fall face-forward into Kurt’s lap, his lips clasping against the skin of Kurt’s thigh - ice cold and shaking. Blaine took a second to kiss the inner of Kurt’s thigh before he forced himself to sit back up, letting the horror of the message sink in.

Either he watched Kurt be tortured, raped and molested and humiliated - or he had to kill him.

“Kill me. Blaine! Just kill me now! Whatever - just don’t hurt him anymore,” Kurt screamed, begging and pleading, and Blaine crawled to sit on his knees, struggling to get a close view of Kurt’s face that was filled pain and terror, desperation and sorrow.

And it struck Blaine how incredibly tired he looked, and he remembered the excessive amount of champagne he had consumed earlier that night, combined with the lack of food, which only had to be like acid being pumped through his veins, and his head had to be throbbing with hangovers. How could he have let himself forget?

Blaine rose on his knees, and let his free hand cup Kurt’s face, tangled his fingers into his hair, and let his thumb caress his cheek.

“Listen to me, baby. Listen - I’ve got it all figured it out. It’s gonna be okay, alright, I got a plan. But I need you to relax, and do whatever I tell you, can you do that for me?” Blaine whispered as low as he could, not wanting to share too much with their mares.

Kurt’s eyes got huge with horror, and Blaine started fearing that he might know what he had in mind - after more than 10 years together it sometimes felt like Kurt could read his mind.

“Alright! Enough is enough - we need a decision here. What’s it gonna be?” The man barked from somewhere behind him, arrogant and cocky; obviously satisfied with this brilliant idea of his.

“Blaine - just kill me, please kill me - I can’t watch them hurt you again, and what if they kill you. Please. It will be fast with the gun. I won’t even feel it. Just do it!” Kurt kept on crying, and Blaine fastened his grip on his jaw.

A well of images started fighting for his attention. His first day of school with his mom tearing up as she said goodbye, the day he decided that it was time to come out - coming out to his parents with his mom crying and his dad leaving the room without a word. The horrible dance and getting beat up with his best friend, his first day at Dalton where he was welcomed by Jeff and Nick, for the first time since he came out feeling safe, with the blue blazer perfectly fitted around his body like a suit of armor to fight off the mean spirits of his past.

………and Kurt.

Kurt asking him for help on the staircase of Dalton. Kurt laughing in Breadstix. Kurt’s first day in Dalton. Kurt at Lima Bean telling him that he thought he was going to ask him out. Kurt crying and singing Blackbird. Kurt kissing him back. Kurt being crowned prom queen his junior year and bravely accepting in front of a school full of people that terrorized him. Kurt saying that he loved him back. Kurt realizing he had transferred to McKinley to be with him. Kurt the first time they made love. Kurt when they won Nationals - on the same team surrounded by friends. Kurt graduating and Kurt smiling back at him from the crowd when he graduated.  Kurt telling him that he had changed his mind and that he wasn’t going to New York with Rachel. Kurt when Burt suggested they should move in together. Kurt proposing to him with tears on his cheeks and shaking hands trying to explain that he had no idea if the ring would fit, but he didn’t care. Kurt, arm-in-arm with Burt, walking down the aisle in the most gorgeous white suit, with golden threads tracing a pattern of flowers up his chest that Blaine had never seen. Kurt saying “I do”. Kurt saying that he wanted to adopt a child with him. Kurt showing him his designs - all inspired by their time at Dalton together. Kurt snuggling close to him after having worked all night to make the last preparations of his show.

All he saw was Kurt. Their life together. Flashing before his eyes. Dominated by smiles, and laughter, and entwined fingers.

Just Kurt.

He knew perfectly well that Kurt didn’t believe in God - which also meant that he didn’t believe in anything beyond death, but Blaine had never really considered the thought before. He had merely accepted that this was how Kurt felt, even though some voice in the back of his mind told him that maybe there could be something more.

All he hoped was that some day - when Kurt was old, and had kids with another man, and he would peacefully pass away in his sleep; if they were to face each other again, that Kurt wouldn’t have forgot about him, that there was a chance they might be together again somewhere.

He felt sadness well in over him, and forced his lips against Kurt. Let them move against his with all the passion he possessed, letting the tip of his tongue in to find Kurt’s only to retreat, before he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Kurt’s, begging for eye contact.

And Kurt’s eyes stared back at him - all of the blue, green and golden they held made his eyes look like a storm of stars. As they always did.

“Kurt. You’re the only guy I have ever loved. I love you so much it physically hurts sometimes. I always have, and I always will. Remember that. No matter what happens remember that I love you,” Blaine whispered, frantic to get it over with.

“No. Don’t say stuff like that, not now, Blaine. Don’t do this to me. I can’t live without you, Blaine. I love you so much. You’re everything to me,” Kurt cried, and Blaine knew that he had figured him out, so he hurried to kiss him one more time, letting the taste of Kurt’s lips linger on his before he pulled away.

“Close your eyes.”

A loud noise mixed with Kurt screaming echoed before everything went black.

*

Kurt was positive that someone had just ripped out his heart with their bare claws. The blood and brains felt like acid on his face, and his screams wouldn’t silence even if he tried to.

The plastic strips tying his hands together were gnawing into the skin on his wrists, and his eyes were fixated on Blaine on the floor in front of him.

His naked frame was cast to the side in an awkward position, his knees dragged to his chest and his arm swung casually behind him, the way he always let his hand behind him to fumble for Kurt’s hand if he woke up with his back on Kurt’s side of the bed.

Except this time he wasn’t sleeping.

Kurt cried and screamed, and it felt like a black hole had formed in his stomach, and was eating out to the rest of his body. His head was pounding and every cell was screaming to be let free so he could fall to the floor and cast his arms around his husband.

His dead husband.

“What the fuck are you doing? You said no one would die?” Kurt faintly heard the woman cry somewhere a million miles away, and the man kept yelling at her to shut up. Or maybe he was yelling something else. Kurt really didn’t care.

Suddenly something his dad had once told him hit his brain, and he felt hatred so strong that he could taste it well up in his mouth and eyes - why hadn’t he remembered before? Then maybe he could have saved Blaine.

He did a quick decision, and knew that this was what he had to do. Next second he heard a crack, and pain shot through from his thumb up his arm and spread - yet unable to take over the agony from watching Blaine pull the trigger.

His thumb was broken, and he was able to push off the plastic strips. Before he knew it he was on his knees, one arm around Blaine dragging him to his front so Kurt could fold their hands. He let his hand caress Blaine’s hair and cheek not caring about the burning sensation from the broken thumb or the sticky mix of blood and brains in his curls.

Kurt lifted his head, careful to only touch his cheek that he knew had survived the shot, and closed his glasslike eyes, so he could bend down to kiss his lips, his eyes, his nose, his cheek - every piece of his face that was still intact.

“Blaine. No Blaine. Come back to me, baby,” Kurt chanted over and over again, feeling the cold of the gun against his knee, not knowing and not caring whether his captures had even realized he had got free.

A series of pictures ran through his head, fast and unable to stop.

His mom putting his first bow tie around his neck, his dad teaching him how to ride a bike, his parents taking him to school. His mom being sick but strong, his dad clearly crushed but not letting the façade crumble telling him his mom had passed away. His mom’s funeral, his dad’s hand closing safely around his as the casket lowered into the ground. His dad fighting to keep his head high for his son. His dad after his first date with Carol. Finn in the hallway of McKinley dressed in a shower curtain defending him against Karofsky. His dad and Carol on their wedding day.

………and Blaine.

Blaine smiling at the foot of the stairs at Dalton. Blaine telling him about how he had transferred to Dalton. Blaine coming to his rescue after Karofsky had kissed him. Blaine helping him with his first audition at The Warblers. Blaine knowing his coffee order. Blaine declaring his love for him. Blaine kissing him while he was decorating Pavarotti’s casket. Blaine singing his goodbye to him with tears in his eyes when he transferred back to McKinley. Blaine agreeing to go with him to prom despite what had happened to him. Blaine asking him to dance in front of a gymnasium full of homophobic teens. Blaine saying goodbye to him before he left for Nationals in New York. Blaine telling him that he loved him for the first time. Blaine surprising him by his locker to tell him he had transferred so they could be together. Blaine on the stage with Rachel being the perfect Tony West Side Story could have ever seen. Blaine assuring him that Sebastian meant nothing to him. Blaine the first time they made love. Blaine when they won Nationals both as a part of New Directions. Blaine when he told him that he wanted to stay with him instead of moving with Rachel. Blaine smiling and waving at him when he graduated. Blaine smiling at him when he graduated himself a year after. Blaine in their first apartment when they had just moved in. Blaine, tear-filled eyes when he accepted his proposal, and saying that it didn’t matter if the ring fit because all that mattered was that they would officially spent their lives together forever. Blaine waiting for him at the end of the aisle struggling not to cry. Blaine saying “I do” and finally caving in to the tears. Blaine kissing him in happiness when they agreed to adopt a child together. Blaine when he saw his designs. Blaine assuring him that people would love his collection. Blaine holding him close and stroking his hair after just having yelled and screamed at him calling him names because he was so frustrated and nervous that the whole show would go wrong. Blaine kissing him goodnight promising that in the morning he would feel better even though he knew how bad Kurt’s hangovers always were.

All he saw was Blaine. Their life together. His laughter ringing in his ears, the taste of his kiss on his lips, and the feeling of his body securely wrapped around him.

Just Blaine.

He had never believed in God. He had actually always condemned God. If there was a God why would such force make him be a person that was not accepted according to his rules? But now that he was there, facing Blaine in such state, he started to wish that he could believe - what if there was a Heaven, but it was only meant for those who believed? Did that mean that Blaine was there now, but he would never be able to reach him?

All he knew now was that he hoped desperately that Blaine would wait for him on the other side - not see some beautiful angel that would make him completely forget about having loved Kurt in life.

Far away, as if from under water, he could hear that the couple was busy screaming at each other and things were flying around the room. They could very possibly be fighting, but all Kurt saw through his tears was Blaine.

“Blaine. Please forgive me. I love you so much, I just can’t… not without you. You are everything to me, Blaine. Don’t hate me -” he bent down to kiss Blaine’s lips one last time, and let his hand slide from Blaine’s cheek to fold around his hand.

“Maybe we’ll be together again now. I love you. More than anything.”

A loud noise echoed through the room and suddenly everything went black.

*