Work Text:
Settled neatly on the bench outside of the new bar he had found work at, Kurt yawned as he flattened out the newspaper in his grasp, wanting to catch up on the recent news before heading in to practice his violin.
His gaze was drawn to the first picture on the front page of the newspaper, his heart twinging with countless feelings - hurt, love, loss, desire - as he looked into the eyes of Paul Körner. The picture of Paul, situated between the title of the article and the main text, was not one that emphasized his angular and sharp beauty - instead, he looked exhausted and troubled, the dark and heavy bags beneath his eyes a striking reminder of the turmoil he was currently going through even in the colorless photo.
Kurt assumed the article the photo belonged to was about the court trial, the results of the accusations that wretched Bollek had cast forth, the revelation that Paul was a homosexual - an accusation that Paul responded with by reporting him for blackmail, for using his sexuality to extort him for money.
Although he assumed the title that was broadcasted in bold black letters over the photo of Pail would be some attention-grabbing, dramatic, and exaggerated to catch the attention of the reader, Kurt glanced at it anyways.
The paper slipped from his fingers, which suddenly felt numb.
'Violinist Paul Körner, Dead by Suicide Following Homosexual Scandal.'
"No..." Kurt whispered, a hand rising to cover his mouth as hot tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes, "No."
He couldn't hear himself, the dull tone that rose to take over everything else surrounding him taking over as his vision narrowed to the three horrific words in the article that now lay crumpled at his feet.
'Paul Körner'
'Dead'
"Kurt...?"
Kurt snapped his gaze up, seeing Else standing a few feet away from him in the street, her hands clasped together and twisting nervously as she looked at him with an unidentifiable expression.
Kurt didn't bother asking Else how she found him, only lurching to his feet, gripping her shoulders and gasping out a desperate plea.
"Tell me it isn't true," Kurt choked out through a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks, "tell me he's not gone!"
"Kurt..." that was all Else needed to say, for her somber and sympathetic expression, her reddened eyes and the tear tracks trailing down her cheeks, that was all he needed to see to know that he was gone.
Paul was gone.
His mentor, his friend, his lover. He was gone.
Else had to support him on the walk to Paul's home, where his deathbed resided. Kurt was barely able to walk straight through his tears and the physical effect his emotions were having on him.
Dead. Paul was dead.
"Oh Else..." Kurt moaned, "there was so much I didn't say... So much I didn't do. I was planning on coming back, I was planning on seeing him again."
"Kurt..." Else trailed off, her expression one of sympathy and sorrow.
"I didn't tell him I loved him " Kurt sobbed, his chest heaving. "I didn't tell him and now he's gone. I can never tell him!"
"He knew." Else gently patted Kurt's quivering shoulder, "He knew. He told me, he loved you in return."
As the house that Kurt and Paul had spent so much time in came into view, Kurt felt his heart break even more. So many memories, of long walks around the grounds, of violin lessons and gentle hands adjusting his grip or resting comfortably on his back... Of playful jests and cradling hands as they sat beside each other. So many memories, and yet not enough.
Paul was...
Paul was his first.
Kurt had entertained and engaged with women in the past, before Paul, but he always felt... something when looking at men, a feeling that sent his heart alight and his stomach tumbling with butterflies, a feeling that wasn't present when he looked at the women who sought his attention.
It was...
Love.
Love was the feeling, and Paul had been his first.
As they slowly entered the room where people were gathered around a bed, blocking the figure lying in it from view, Kurt took a deep breath. Paul's family was standing around his deathbed, and dimly, Kurt noted the lack of tears present in the room besides his own and Else's. There was another man - that Doctor - who was stood further back, his expression one that Kurt couldn't define.
But Kurt didn't have the mind to analyze the expressions of those in the room, only having eyes for the figure lying in the bed as the people surrounding it separated for him to stumble past.
"You shouldn't be-" one of Paul's family spoke up, his father, clearly unhappy with Kurt's presence. Kurt ignored him, and continued his path towards Paul's form.
"Go ahead, just turn away!" Else shouted from behind him, her voice trembling with barely contained rage, "You and the rest of society have his death on your conscience!"
At her words, Paul's gathered family gasped, but they made no more complaints of Kurt's presence, settling for whispering to each other in hushed tones and shared glances.
As he reached the bed, the pale sheets tightly covering Paul's form, a bouquet of flowers - they were a mix of lilies and chrysanthemums - settled below his crossed hands.
Paul hated lilies and chrysanthemums. Those two, along with carnations, were ones he refused to accept in bouquets gifted to him or ones he ordered to the house.
His favorite flowers were cornflowers, which grew all around his home, and were present in many of the various vases and artworks littered around the halls and rooms.
It was one of the first facts about him that he shared with Kurt.
Kurt couldn't stand on his shaky legs any longer and collapsed to his knees, leaning forward to caress Paul's cheek - hoping that against all odds, he might feel life - but his skin was cold, and Kurt could feel how the absence of life had sucked the brightness and warmth from his lover. The wrongness of how Paul felt sent another crack splintering through his damaged heart. Kurt let out a choked sob, grasping Paul's cold hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing them against the chilled skin as he mourned the loss of the one who had helped him understand and accept himself.
"I'm sorry." Kurt gasped, "I love you. I didn't tell you after I left. I was mad, confused, but..." Kurt pressed his lips to the cold skin of Paul's hand for a moment, tears spilling down his reddened cheeks and dropping down to leave spots of wetness on the blanket below, "I love you. I wanted to be with you, forever. I was going to return."
Looking into Paul's still face, Kurt could barely hold himself together, his shoulders shaking with the force of an earthquake.
"I'm sorry."
Paragraph 175.
The wretched Paragraph was the killer that has stolen Paul away from him, all because of the trait they both shared - their sexuality, their forbidden love for each other.
Could the same fate be looming on the horizon for Kurt?
Paragraph 175.
This monster was unemotional, uncaring, and cruel in its selection of those who were to be punished. Anyone who felt love for those outside the opposite sex felt its constant gaze upon them, wary as they participated in love that the government defined as "unnatural" and "queer".
Paragraph 175.
What if the only way to escape it was...
"I want to follow him," Kurt had stood on shaking legs, barely realizing he was speaking - in a dull, emotionless voice - the sentiment that his damaged heart was sending, his hand loosely resting over Paul's as he stared at the unmoving face of his deceased love, "I want... I want to join him."
With those words, Kurt glanced up, his gaze meeting both Else's - who looked shocked, her mouth opening but no words coming out as she fought for the right ones - and the Doctor - the one Paul spoke so highly of, the one who had the lecture that he took Else along to - who's gaze was one of somberness and loss as he stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder as his gaze sought out Kurt's reddened eyes.
"You have to keep living; live to change the prejudices by which this man has been made one of the countless victims. You must restore the honor of this man and bring justice to him, and all those who came before him, and all those to come after him." The man solemnly spoke, powerful words flowing past his lips as he urged Kurt to remain, for Paul, "Justice through knowledge!"
"Yes..." Kurt murmured, twisting to glance back at the serene face of his lover, freed from the torturous world that Paragraph 175 had wrought. "Yes, I will. I will make sure none forget him. Everyone will know the name of Paul Körner, and everyone will know of what prejudices he experienced, of what the government and their Paragraph 175 did to him. I will make sure none forget the man he was.
The man he truly was."
As Kurt made his way to the door, not sparing Paul's wretched family even a glance, his heart steeled with his new mission, he cursed the monster that had stolen his love from him far too early, and promised to never ease in his fight against its cruel clutches.
Paragraph 175.