Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

A/N: This was written based on a prompt on glee_angst_meme. Warnings for homophobic language, mentions of attempted suicide, mentions of self-harm and depression apply.

The silence of the morning was shattered by the shrill ringing of the alarm clock. Under normal circumstances, Kurt would have shut it off, then proceed to take a long, refreshing bath and make sure that his attire was up to standards.

But things haven't felt normal for a while now. Kurt didn't bother switching it off. This was it. He'd had enough. He didn't know why he felt so…empty.

Maybe it started three weeks ago, after that stupid argument he had with Mercedes when she confronted him about Blaine's attitude towards Sam, when she told Kurt to warn Blaine against being so insensitive towards Sam's situation.

To be honest, he did not approve of what Blaine said, but felt no need to step in and "tell Blaine to back off". Blaine knew that he was wrong, and between transferring schools, leaving his fellow Warblers behind, and being shoved to the bottom of the social pyramid, it seemed perfectly understandable for him to snap.

But, Kurt reasoned, she had the right to stand up for Sam.

Flipping himself around, Kurt planted his feet on the ground and got out of bed.

Today, he was going to make things right.

So many things had gone wrong so quickly. With the failed student presidential elections, NYADA now seemed out of reach. To make matters worse, he had been accused of cheating and oh God he could not bear to see the disappointment in his father's eyes again.

He just wanted this year to be magical, and yet, the only thing that seemed right was Blaine.

He had to make things okay. Pulling out three bottles of sleeping pills from his messenger bag, Kurt unlocked his mobile phone. He would apologize to Mercedes about their argument; he would tell Rachel to chase her dreams, he would tell her to show "the Gerber baby" what she was made of, that she's equally, if not more, talented and beautiful. Finally, he would write his dad a letter. He would apologise for leaving like this. He would apologise for his mistakes. He would apologise for leaving him like his mom did.

But it's going to be okay. You've Carole and Finn by your side.

It was eight o'clock in the morning. There was still 15 hours.

In 15 hours, Kurt Hummel was going to die.

Adjusting his collar, Kurt proceeded to run the brush through his hair. He was going on one last date with Blaine to see The Colour Purple. After that, they would kiss, and for a moment, things will seem normal again.

Yeah, Kurt mused, and then they will find me dead.

There was a knock on the front door, and he set the brush down. There was no time to think about death. For now, all he was going to care about would be Blaine.

Making his way down the stairs, Kurt opened to door to reveal his blushing boyfriend.

"Blaine? Why are you-?"

"You gave me that bouquet of flowers, and I realised that I didn't give you anything in return. So…"

Blaine reached into the inner pocket of his coat, and pulled out a single white flower.

"It's a white Camellia and…it means 'you're adorable'."

Kurt froze, tears threatening to fall.


Throwing himself at Blaine with surprising force, Blaine stumbled a little, but managed to regain his balance.

Wrapping his arms around his lover's neck, Kurt repeated those three words over and over again.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

When the musical ended about four hours later, Kurt and Blaine made their way down to the parking lots, their fingers interlocking perfectly.

"I mean, Celie is just…amazing. She managed to overcome her difficulties and she's celebrating life!"

Blaine had been gushing about the musical since it ended half an hour ago. It was, after all, one of his favourite musicals. When Blaine realised that the tickets were sold-out, he had that adorable pout on his face that immediately made Kurt decide that he simply had to get his hands on a pair of those tickets.

After three hours on the phone, and a long debate with Rachel ("But I bought a pair of tickets for my date with Finn!" "Rachel, he'll fall asleep three minutes into the opening number."), he'd finally managed to slip them into Blaine's locker the next morning.

Just as they reached the car, Kurt fumbled around for the white Camellia Blaine had given him. (Yes, he carried it around. He couldn't bear to leave it unattended.) After a minute, Kurt concluded, "I think I left it in the washroom we visited after the musical ended."

Blaine, still in an adrenaline high, was bouncing on his feet.

"Would you like me to get it for you? You can wait in the car."

Kurt gave Blaine a fond smile, "it's okay. I'll be back in a minute."

The familiar feeling of guilt began to bubble in Kurt's stomach as he walked through the now-silent corridors while heading for the washroom. It was similar to the feeling he had when he caught Burt's eye in the Principal's office, yet not quite the same.

Are you really prepared to leave him behind?

He's Blaine. He'll be fine. He'll move on and one day, just like the others, he'll forget about me.

Kurt knew that it was true. Blaine was, and will always be, amazing. He will have a hundred admirers following him around and he will have the warblers…Sebastian…

There was a noise. Instinctively, Kurt froze.

Silence returned, and Kurt then turned around to leave. Something felt terribly wrong; something told him to run, fast.

Cord-like fingers struck from nowhere, wrapping themselves around his neck, choking him, strangling him, and killing him.

"Well, hello there, lady."

Kurt tried to pry the fingers off, but the snake-like grip was too strong, and his fingers were slippery with cold sweat.

His head was slammed against the cement wall, and his breath was knocked out of him.

The fingers finally unwound themselves, but proceeded to grab a fistful of hair instead. As Kurt's head was violently jerked backwards, a blinding pain shot through the back of his neck.

I'm going to die. He'll kill me. I'm going to die.

"I've seen boys like you; boys who wrap their asses in designer pants and parade their gayness around like a damn peacock."

Now his face was smashed onto the floor, and he felt a warm liquid dribble down his nose. God everything hurt and he just wanted it to end. It didn't matter. If he lived, he was going home to end it anyway, so why couldn't someone do him a favour and kill him now.


Shit. He knew that voice. Even if everyone finally decides that they've had enough of him, even if everything he had was taken away, Kurt will always know that voice.

It was the voice of the man who told him to stand up for himself, the voice of the man who told him that their relationship was worth so much more than a lousy trophy, the voice of the man who told him that he loves him.

Kurt tried to open his mouth, tried to tell Blaine to leave. It was useless.

Another shadow jumped from the walls and threw Blaine onto the ground. There was a strangled cry, and Kurt felt a strong blow to his head. It was strange. He knew there was supposed to be pain but for some reason, he felt detached from his body, like his mind was hovering somewhere close, but not close enough.

There was no pain; only a strange darkness that began as a daunting grey mist which grew darker and darker until it finally consumed him.

Am I dead?

I was hoping to finally have some control over my life; I was hoping to end it on my own free will.

But still…it's finally over, right?

What about Blaine? Is he okay?

It could have been seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours later, but something pulled him back. The lights were dim; there was a pounding in his head, and a coppery taste in his mouth. His entire body was sore and he was just about to close his eyes when a groan threw him back into reality with the force of a tidal wave.


That sickening, red, warm and sticky fluid was smeared across half his face. His cloths were ripped and as Kurt's eyes wandered further down, he blanched. Blaine's torso was covered in cuts and bruises.

How is he even breathing?

It didn't matter how much he wanted to die. It didn't matter how much pain he was in. Blaine couldn't die; he had so much to live for.

Somehow, Kurt managed to reach for the phone in his pocket and dialled 911.

"911. What's your emergency?"

Blaine was going to be okay. He couldn't screw things up again. Blaine was the one thing in his life that had to remain perfect. He had to be okay.