This is a result of my craving to write my first Klaine multichapter. (And by "multi," I mean "more than two.") Plus, I felt like writing something really deep/emotional/heartwrenching/(insert synonym for those words here). Soooo I came up with this.

This story is rated M just for the sheer fact that it includes this first chapter. This chapter is pretty graphic and intense with lots of violence and homophobic slurs (which are used only for literary effect; I do not condone any of the graphic events depicted at all). After this, it all gets better, so keep that in mind.

I don't own Glee or CrissColfer. Unfortunately.


OFFENSIVE INNOCENCE

Chapter 1

It was the most cliché date ever, but it's not like I cared. In that moment, there was no place I would have rather been then exactly where I was - in the back row of the movie theater with Blaine, wrapped in his arms, making out in the darkness.

I couldn't even remember the name of the movie we were supposed to be watching - what movie we'd paid to come in here and see. I was too occupied with other things. Things like the fact that Blaine's tongue was snaking into my mouth, brushing against mine. Things like how I was practically in his lap, on top of him. It wasn't often that we could do things like this in public. Usually, we couldn't even walk down the street holding hands without getting sneers and jibes from rude onlookers. But here in the darkness, nobody was even paying attention to us. Besides, I felt so safe in his arms...it almost felt like nobody could hurt us.

"Mmmm," Blaine murmured into my mouth, pulling me closer against him as I shivered. "You taste so good, baby, you're so...,"

He trailed off as he deepened the kiss, a quiet moan escaping from his throat. "...fucking hot," he finally finished.

"Well, well, well." I smirked, pulling away from the kiss just a tiny bit. "I never thought you could be reduced to such language."

Blaine smiled his beautiful smile that I loved so much and kissed the tip of my nose. "Only you, Kurt," he whispered. "You do things to me that nobody else can."

My heart stopped - it was one of those nobody's-ever-said-something-like-that-to-me-before moments. I didn't know what to say, but suddenly my mouth was aching to feel his lips again. I leaned in closer.

"You talk too much," I giggled, letting my tongue brush against his bottom lip just a bit.

"Touché." Blaine smirked a little bit as he wrapped his arms around my neck, pulling me feverishly into the kiss.

We would have stayed like that forever, but before long, the lights in the theater were coming back on and our fellow patrons were starting to disperse from their seats. I reluctantly extricated myself from Blaine and took his hand as we stood up and deliriously made our way out of the theater, tossing our uneaten popcorn in the trash on our way out.

I hadn't realized how much I was sweating until we stepped outside into the cool December night. I smiled to myself and leaned my head against Blaine's shoulder as we headed across the parking lot to his car, finding it kind of funny that I'd managed to work up this much of a sweat over a movie - but then again, it's not like we'd been watching much of the movie, anyway.

I was happy. And that's why, when I heard a caustic voice calling, "Hey there, faggots!" in our general direction, I didn't even flinch. I heard things like that all the time; I wasn't going to let it bring me down. Not when I was walking hand-in-hand with the most perfect boy in the world.

But we had to stop cold in our tracks when a group of three or four tough-looking men - one of whom, I assumed, had been the owner of the voice I'd heard - stepped in front of us, blocking our way. I looked at Blaine, whose face was surprisingly calm, despite the fact that my eyes were probably wide with fear. Before I knew it, a pair of strong arms that did not belong to my boyfriend were wrapped around me and Blaine's hand was forced away from mine.

"So you're the two fags who were sucking on each others' disgusting faces while we were trying to watch the movie," the man who was restraining me sneered, his face red and twisted with rage. I glanced frantically around for Blaine and finally saw him a few feet away from me, being crushed by the arms of one of the other men, struggling fruitlessly to break free.

"Yes," I heard Blaine's voice respond. His tone was even, emotionless. "We were."

"What makes you think you have the right to do that?" one of our attackers - I had closed my eyes, not wanting to look at any of their faces - roared. "What?"

I blinked back the tears that threatened to leak out of my eyes. There was no way I would let any of these Neanderthals see me cry. Before I spoke, I opened my eyes and looked right at Blaine. "Because he's my boyfriend, and I care about him more than anything in the world." I tried to keep my voice as calm as Blaine's had been, which took quite a bit of effort. But despite the shakiness of my voice, Blaine gave me a tiny smile, and I knew he'd heard me.

The man restraining me roared something unintelligible and before I knew it, I felt myself being dragged into the alley behind the movie theater. I glanced around for Blaine in quiet desperation, and when I couldn't see him, I called out his name in a broken voice.

"Shut the fuck up, you disgusting little fag." A grimy hand was clamped over my mouth. "Your Blaine isn't-"

"Kurt!" A familiar voice, one that was always music to my ears, cried from somewhere across the alley in the darkness. I couldn't see or breathe or even move, but despite all this, when I heard his voice, I smiled.

But a second after I heard him call my name, my smile turned to a wince as I heard a strangled cry of pain. It broke my heart to hear him being hurt like that, knowing there was nothing I could do to help him...

The hand over my mouth was no longer there, so I called back to let him know I'd heard him. "Blaine, I..."

"I said, shut up!" The arms around me seemed to constrict even tighter, and before I knew it, a sharp object that could have only been a knife was plunged into my back, near my right shoulder blade. Under any other circumstances, I imagined the pain would have been unbearable, but not now. Now, I was too numb.

The object I'd been stabbed with left my back, and my attacker held it up in front of my face. Sure enough, it was a knife, glistening in my own blood. As he spoke, he pressed the cold blade against my neck. "You say one more word and I'll slit your fucking throat," he growled. "Got that?"

The only thing I could do was nod. I could feel the blood soaking through to the back of my shirt. I couldn't even make sense of what was going on, but I felt myself being dragged further down the alley. My feet suddenly left the ground and I was lifted up, then slammed back down into what felt like a tight, constricting cylinder. The slam of metal against metal over my head rang in my ears, and I kept my eyes closed, not even daring to move until I heard one of the men's voices call, "C'mon, let's get the fuck outta here," followed by retreating footsteps.

After a few minutes during which I hadn't even allowed myself to breathe, I carefully opened my eyes and looked around the tight space into which I was crunched. Tight, metal, cylindrical, foul-smelling. I'd been shoved into a trash can.

With my good shoulder, I slammed against the side of the can a few times in an attempt to tip it over. After a few hits, it fell to the asphalt and the lid clattered off. I crawled out, ignoring how painful it felt to make any movement, and focused on my next mission: finding Blaine.

"Blaine?" I called tentatively, not sure if our attackers were still near. "Where are you?"

"Over here," a hoarse voice called, and my heart immediately broke at how forlorn he sounded. "By the Dumpster."

I crawled across the alley towards the large rectangular object I assumed to be the Dumpster, although I couldn't see very well in the darkness. Sure enough, Blaine was slumped over next to the trash receptacle, leaning against the cool brick wall of the building.

"Can't move...ow," he groaned as I sat next to him, taking him in my arms and holding his head against my chest. He had a nasty gash near his scalp, and blood was trickling down over his skin, staining the entire left side of his face except for a few clean tracks through which tears had fallen. It was clear just from looking at him that he was in much worse shape than I was. Still, as he lay here broken, he was still impossibly beautiful.

"Blaine," I whispered, looking down into his eyes. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the sound of sirens - someone who had been in the parking lot must have called 911. Blaine looked up at me, and it broke my heart to realize that I could practically see the life leaving him. "No matter what...happens to us tonight, I love you. I want you to know that...no, I need you to know that. I love you, Blaine."

It was the first time I'd ever said those words to him. I hadn't exactly envisioned this as the ideal setting in which to say them, but he had to know before it was too late.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine sighed, pressing one hand against my chest as he struggled to reach his face up closer to mine. I met him halfway and kissed him, fresh tears forming in my eyes as I tasted blood on his lips.

"I love you so much." Blaine's voice was almost inaudible through his tears. He leaned his head against my chest again, and inhaled a shaky breath before his eyes drifted closed.

I could feel his heart slowing down, his breaths coming few and far between as a rescue squad composed of ambulances and police cars raced into the alleyway. I cried out in protest as one of the paramedics lifted Blaine's possibly-lifeless body out of my arms and placed him on a stretcher, but said no more as I was loaded onto a stretcher of my own and lifted into one of the ambulances.

As the vehicle raced through the streets of Lima, presumably to the hospital, one of the paramedics leaned down close to me and started speaking, but I couldn't even make sense of what they were saying. The only thing that mattered right now was Blaine. How far away was his ambulance from mine? Was he even still alive?

The paramedic stopped talking and looked at me, probably expecting a response, which I couldn't give. The only word that escaped my lips was my boyfriend's whispered name, accompanied by a single tear that rolled down my cheek as I closed my eyes.