No One Is Alone

A horrifying attack hits too close to home, both literally and figuratively, and it triggers something in Sebastian that he can't quite name. There's something awful in him, something rotten, and when Kurt is the next victim of the attackers, the awfulness becomes nearly overwhelming.

The world is unfair. It doles out punishment to the good, and rewards to the bad, and all Sebastian can do is hold on tight to the people he cares about, whether he deserves them or not.

Notes:

I said you guys weren't gonna get any more Kurtbastian outta me for a while... I guess I lied.

I had this sitting in my WIPs folder for aaages because I just really didn't like it, but I found myself with a spare afternoon and a spark of inspiration so I decided to fix it up.

This is very angsty, please be warned. When I do more works in this series I want to talk more about mySebastian having some mental health struggles, so this is sort of the intro to that. He is not a reliable narrator in this fic, he is not thinking healthy thoughts, he is going through it. Poor boy.

Anyways, bye bye :):)

Work Text:

Witches can be right.

Giants can be good.

You decide what’s right.

You decide what’s good.

Just remember: someone is on your side.

. ݁₊ ⊹ 🏙 . ݁˖ . ݁

As Sebastian stared down at the picture of the man who had been attacked, surrounded by flowers, cards, and candles, he felt cold in a way that couldn’t be explained by the late-winter chill in the New York air. He tugged his coat tighter around himself, though, and clung closer to Kurt’s side, letting the warmth of his body seep through the layers of clothing. It helped somewhat, but it didn’t shake the feeling.

Everyone was rattled, though, not just Sebastian. Kurt, especially. He wasn’t sleeping. He was strung as tight as a wire, flinched at sudden noises, and didn’t talk much. He’d been like this since he’d heard about it on the news, watching it on the TV with wide, terrified eyes.

Rachel had gasped, horrified, and nearly started crying from the shock of it.

“Right around the corner!” she’d wailed. “It could have been one of you!”

Sebastian hadn’t had the energy to shoot her a well-deserved glare, or point out that they were both devastatingly aware of how easily it could have been them. Of course they were. Every moment of their lives spent beyond the safety of their homes was clouded by unshakeable fear of these people, it didn’t matter that ‘it could have been them’. What mattered was that it was someone.

Instead, Sebastian had watched Kurt, who was sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of the TV, right next to him. Across his lap had been one of Sebastian’s fancy shirts, the pocket of which he’d been mending when the news arrived. The needle had fallen out of Kurt’s hand and onto the carpet. His eyes had reflected the bright blue of the news set, and hadn’t moved until the presenter moved on to the weather report.

When they did, they landed on Sebastian and softened just a little. He didn’t say anything. He just reached out and held Sebastian’s hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze.

That had been two days ago, and they hadn’t talked much since. This was Kurt’s way, though, Sebastian knew that. He needed to figure out his emotions on his own before he could put them into words. All Sebastian could do was hold him while he processed, and try to process himself.

The trouble was, Sebastian wasn’t nearly as emotionally intelligent as Kurt was. In times of emotional crisis, it often took him nearly twice as long to figure out his feelings, simply because he’d spent a lot of his life refusing to feel them at all.

If someone asked, he’d say he felt afraid. Saddened, angry, mystified. Worried. And cold. That was about all he could parse, and none of those words quite went to the root of it.

Kurt was better at that sort of thing. When he was ready to talk, he would tell Sebastian how he’d been feeling, and Sebastian would be hit with a revelatory wave of: ‘Yes, that! That’s it, that’s exactly it!’. Until then, Sebastian could only feel inexplicably.

Life-shaking events, however, had a way of falling by the wayside when life kept moving regardless. Sebastian had a portfolio due that he’d been working on since November, and Kurt had his Midwinter Critique on the horizon. As did Blaine and Rachel, but Sebastian couldn’t pretend to care too much about them.

Rachel had insisted that they begin the tradition of weekly potluck dinners. At the time, Sebastian had been thrilled about the idea of a tradition involving him, including him in the group, but today it felt like an impossible obstacle he couldn’t imagine himself getting over.

Kurt clearly felt the same way as, when Artie arrived, he’d ducked away to his room. Sebastian followed him when Rachel had engaged Artie in enough conversation that he could. Kurt looked up at his entrance and, though his mouth didn’t smile, his eyes did.

Sebastian returned it as best he could, and grabbed Kurt’s spare chair so that he could sit next to him at his desk. Kurt was on his laptop, flicking through photos from a Vogue shoot that Isabelle had sent him.

“What do you think of this one?” he asked quietly, so as not to alert Artie and Rachel to their rude avoidance of them.

Sebastian leaned over to see the picture more clearly. It was a classic magazine shot of a woman in a bright red dress, practically glaring at the camera, which was beneath her. The angle did a good enough job at making her look taller, but did nothing for the shape of the dress, which from below looked strange and ill-fitting.

“Weird angle,” he commented. Kurt nodded thoughtfully. “Ugly dress.”

Kurt cracked a smile. “Very ugly dress. I doubt it looks good at any angle.”

Sebastian shook his head and let Kurt pass him the laptop. He flicked through the shots, eyes peeled for what he was looking for. “Clothes are dynamic the same way people are. Maybe it’s just an unphotogenic dress. Aha-”

He paused his scrolling, clicked on a different shot, and returned the computer to Kurt.

“Ah,” Kurt gasped quietly when his eyes fell on it. He nudged Sebastian fondly. “You see things I don’t.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is, I’ve looked through these pictures a dozen times and didn’t give this one a second glance.” Kurt turned to him and gave him a warm, pleading look. Sebastian knew what was coming. “We could really use you at Vogue, you know.”

Sebastian blushed lightly. It spread warm across his cheeks. They’d had this discussion before, and his answer remained the same.

“I do know,” he smirked. “But I also know that you would get pretty sick of me if we saw each other that often.”

“I would not!”

“You would,” Sebastian insisted, grinning. “It’s not a bad thing, you just need your own space. Admit it, you would hate it if I never left your side, it would drive you crazy.”

Kurt sighed and took Sebastian’s hand. He rubbed circles into the back of it with his thumb, and watched the movement intently. “‘Doesn’t feel like that right now.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered and softened into a sad sort-of smile. “I know,” he whispered.

Kurt gnawed on his lower lip. Sebastian saw, even though his head was lowered, that his eyes were shiny. Sebastian flipped his hand over and threaded their fingers together.

Faintly, he heard Mercedes arriving, and Rachel greeting her brightly. Kurt’s eyes flickered in that direction solemnly and then came back to Sebastian.

“‘Right now’ isn’t going to last forever,” he said, though it didn’t sound like he believed it. Still, it was true. The pain in Sebastian’s chest would pass. As would the pain in Kurt’s. It would just have to suck for a bit, before it could begin to fade.

Sebastian heard the loft door creak open and Mercedes exclaim, “Blaine!”. A masculine voice said something in reply that sounded chipper. At least one of the gays was happy.

That wasn’t fair. Blaine was probably dealing with it in his own way. His unfailing exuberance just felt a little foreign to Sebastian.

“I really don’t want to do this,” Kurt whispered, his voice tight and just on the edge of trembling. Sebastian held his hand tighter.

“It won’t be that bad,” he assured. “It’ll take your mind off it, at least.”

Kurt nodded, his beautiful face twisted in pain and frustration. Sebastian leaned forward and caught his lips in a brief kiss that bloomed warm in his chest, briefly thawing the cold that had settled there. It seemed that Kurt felt the benefits too, because the tension around his eyebrows smoothed out and his mouth curled into a weak, watery smile.

“I’m gonna go set the table,” Sebastian whispered. He reluctantly stood up, as did Kurt and, after a brief moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms tightly around Sebastian and buried his face in his chest. Sebastian’s arms immediately encircled him, clinging on just as tight.

They held there for a moment before Kurt pulled back, wiping at his eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured Sebastian. “I just need to shake it off.”

Sebastian nodded. “Call me back if you need me.”

“Will do.”

When Sebastian re-entered the main room, he was greeted with a pile of plates being thrust into his hands by Rachel, and strict instructions to lay the table so that they could eat the moment Sam arrived. He followed the orders dutifully, and even checked on the pots simmering over the stove. He busied himself so he wouldn’t have to think, or chicken out and return to the safe quiet of Kurt’s corner of the loft.

Finally, Sam arrived, and Rachel greeted him warmly with an energy Sebastian found difficult to swallow. They exchanged some words that he drowned out, head ducked low over a warm pot that didn’t really need his attention.

Mercedes’ voice cut through, though. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked.

Sebastian glanced up and saw that she held aloft the flier for Russ’ vigil that had been left on the side. Sebastian winced. He hadn’t noticed it was there, he should have gotten rid of it before anyone had the chance to see it.

“That was our neighbour’s friend. He got beat up last week.” Rachel explained. Again, her voice was annoyingly perky. Like she was pretending to be sad about it.

“That’s a nice way of saying he was gay bashed,” Kurt cut in, striding in from his room with a confidence Sebastian knew had been carefully constructed in the minutes they’d been apart. He gave Sebastian a pinched smile as he passed that Sebastian quickly returned.

“He was just walking down Bleecker Street and these guys jumped out of a pickup truck and just decided to beat him up,” Blaine explained as he walked over to the table from the couch to find his seat. “He’s lucky to be alive.”

Sebastian transferred the contents of the pot into a serving bowl and turned around to deliver it to the table. A seat had been saved for him by Kurt’s side, a mild surprise because they generally preferred to be opposite one another so that they could more easily communicate via facial expressions. Tonight though, he understood the need for physical touch, and suspected that Kurt may have orchestrated the seating arrangement on some level.

The conversation about Russ was still going on, though Sebastian had managed to tune most of it out, and as he took his place by Kurt’s side, he found his hand to give it a light squeeze of support. Kurt squeezed back.

“Well, a few ignorant idiots just hate the idea that we’re finally accepted,” Blaine was explaining condescendingly. Kurt squeezed Sebastian’s hand again, but this time it seemed to communicate more of an eyeroll than a private show of affection. Sebastian smirked. “They hate that we’re moving into neighbourhoods that are ‘straight’, they hate that we’re-” Blaine coughed. “-marrying. So they lash out by trying to kill us.”

Sebastian almost opened his mouth to say something along the lines of, “Wow, what a beautifully simplified view on the situation, delivered in such a disturbingly cheerful way. Thank you, Blaine.” But Kurt seemed to sense it, and shut the whole conversation down before he could make the night any worse.

“Let’s change the subject before we all get so bummed out we can’t eat,” he sighed. Sebastian moved his foot so it was resting atop Kurt’s. “NYADA Midwinter Critiques are upon us, and our fearless leader, Madame Tibideaux, has tightened her turban and given us the ultimate musical theatre challenge-”

Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel, in their musical-theatre-student way, all chorused together in a harmonised,

“Sondheim!”

Despite the circumstances, Sebastian snorted and Kurt’s eyes sparkled with amusement when they flicked in Sebastian’s direction.

“Oh, my God, it's amazing,” Rachel babbled. “How are we gonna pick? It’s so hard!”

“We have to do a duet,” said Blaine.

Kurt opened his mouth to say something but Artie spoke first to comment on Mercedes and Sam playing footsie under the table. Sebastian couldn’t pretend to care, they had been flirting with each other for weeks now. Golly gee, another New Directions romance — what a shock!

Mercedes brushed the moment off and the group returned to the conversation.

“I don’t think the assignment is duets,” said Kurt to Blaine and Rachel.

“I think it’s up for creative interpretation!” said Rachel. “And, anyway, Carmen loves us — I’m sure she’ll be thrilled with whatever we do.”

“What about ‘You Could Drive A Person Crazy’ from ‘Company’?” Blaine suggested.

Sebastian watched as Kurt huffed and fell back in his seat. He smirked at him.

“No, I think we need something that’s more of a showstopper,” Rachel mused. “We could do ‘Tonight’, that’s a fantastic song for our voices, or- Oh, my God!”

“What?”

“‘Broadway Baby’!”

“That’s perfect!”

“Isn’t it genius?”

“Completely!”

Kurt reached over a squeezed Sebastian’s leg with an expression of exasperated amusement on his face.

“And what are you going to do?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt shrugged. “I sang ‘Being Alive’ for my audition and brought the house down. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve already passed the ‘Sondheim’ challenge.”

“Damn right.”

“I mean,” Kurt began, leaning forward and finally making a real start on his meal. “If I’ve learned anything about Carmen Tibideaux over these past few years, it’s that she prefers my performances when they’re completely spur-of-the-moment.”

Sebastian grinned. “So you’re not gonna rehearse at all?”

“I’ll rehearse!” Kurt insisted. “I’m just saying, what’s the point in doing something complicated like ‘Giants In The Sky’, if she’ll give me a better grade if I just show up and sing ‘Finishing The Hat’?”

Sebastian hmmed. “Don’t bother, then. Honestly, she’s not wrong, you’re at your best when you’re unplugged.”

“What are you two talking about?” Rachel butt in eagerly.

“What I’m gonna sing this week,” said Kurt.

“Oh, you have to do ‘Johanna’, Blaine and I were just saying - weren’t we, Blaine?”

“Absolutely, that song would be great for Kurt.”

And so the dinner went on. For most of it, the conversation surrounded Blaine and Rachel’s duet. Sebastian's attention to the conversation drifted, Kurt’s hand moving to and from his thigh as a steady, comforting weight that brought him back in.

They all stayed a while after dinner, chatting in the living room. It was very strange. Sebastian was sitting in a warm, cosy apartment, surrounded by good people, only some of whom regularly got on his nerves, with his boyfriend tucked under his arm. And yet, he still felt cold. Everyone except he and Kurt were talking as if they had forgotten Russ completely. Which, Sebastian figured, they probably had.

With the exception of Blaine, there was no reason for any of them to genuinely care about what happened to Russ. None of them had to fear for their own lives when they walked around New York because of their sexualities, and they didn’t even know him, so the damage, to them, probably felt very remote. Easy to ignore.

When they finally, finally, left, Sebastian and Kurt retired to the blessed peace of Kurt’s corner of the loft. They went through their nightly routines side-by-side, brushing their teeth, getting through their individually lengthy skincare regimens, and changing into pyjamas.

When they eventually found themselves under Kurt’s covers, Sebastian was laid on his back with Kurt curled around him, head on his chest. Sebastian stroked his hair.

“I think I want to stay at your place for a few days,” Kurt whispered into the dark.

“Yeah?”

Sebastian felt Kurt nod. “I love them, but they’re kind of a lot.”

Sebastian huffed out a quiet laugh. “You can say that again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ 🏙 . ݁˖ . ݁

It had been a few days since the dinner and Sebastian was in one of the NYU darkrooms, developing the shots for his Analog Photography portfolio. It was a slow and tedious process that required every ounce of his energy and focus.

First you loaded the film into the developing tank and mixed your chemicals to make the developing solution. Then you poured the solution into the tank, inverting it at specific intervals that, to Sebastian at least, seemed to change every time he went through it. Once the intervals were over, you poured out the developer and added some other shit that stopped it (Sebastian hadn’t been paying attention when his lecturer explained the specifics of it), poured in some more shit, poured it out again, and then dried the film.

All of that and he hadn’t even enlarged the photo to the size he wanted yet. That was a whole other thing.

One time, Kurt insisted that he be let into the darkroom to watch Sebastian work. They’d watched ‘Funny Face’ the night before (as they often did) and, since Sebastian happened to have been developing some black and white pictures of Kurt at the time, Kurt had decided that he wanted his Audrey Hepburn moment.

The issue was that Kurt was very, very distracting, and Sebastian had accidentally missed an important interval because he’d somehow found himself with Kurt pushed up against a wall and their hands down each other’s pants. After that, Kurt was banned from the darkroom for life. Or until Sebastian stopped being so damn horny over the guy, which he doubted would ever happen.

With that in mind, Sebastian timed his darkroom sessions for when he knew Kurt was busy. This time, it was because Kurt was watching Blaine and Rachel’s Sondheim duet that he had cautioned them against doing.

He’d texted just before the performance.

Kurt ❤️

Blaine is in a tailcoat

Sebastian

Like an old-timey butler?

Kurt had then sent a photo of Rachel and Blaine with their heads huddled together in the stairwell outside the NYADA round room. Sure enough, Blaine was dressed as dapper as the damn Monopoly man. Sebastian grinned.

Sebastian

Pitch it to Isabelle?

Kurt ❤️

She’d skin me alive

Three little dots appeared on the screen before Sebastian could type a reply.

Kurt ❤️

Go in the darkroom! Stop procrastinating!

Sebastian

You texted me!

Kurt ❤️

It was a test and you failed go be productive

Love you

Sebastian

Love you

Sebastian’s chest pinched. It hadn’t in a few days. Life had distracted him well enough that he had only thought of Russ once when he’d passed the vigil after leaving Kurt’s place the morning after the dinner.

As he went through the tedious and monotonous process of preparing the film, the pinching sensation didn’t dissipate. It occurred to him, suddenly, that the feeling didn’t really have much to do with Russ at all. Well, it had something to do with Russ, but it was bigger than that. For whatever reason, it felt like it was more about him.

He set a timer for one minute until he had to invert the tank again. In the meantime, he tidied up the worktop where he had been mixing the development solution.

Where had he felt this feeling before? It was familiar, somehow. His mind immediately went where it always did: Paris, seemingly the root of all his problems. But that didn’t quite fit.

His mom? No. That was just grief, he wasn’t grieving.

He ran through the years since. Returning to Lima, meeting Kurt, hating him, that first Christmas spent with his dad and brothers in years, when he’d watched Blaine and Kurt on the TV looking so happy. That memory stuck out, he was getting closer.

The slushee.

Sebastian winced. That was definitely part of it.

The minute timer went off and he inverted the tank, catching a glimpse of the photo taking shape. He recognised it as one he took in Times Square on New Year’s Eve. It had been so busy that he and Kurt were forced to stand on top of a bench to get a decent view of the performance, and Sebastian had brought out his camera to capture the massive crowd of heads all pointed away from them.

He’d expected the photo to be just that, the backs of people’s heads. But one face, just in the bottom right corner of the shot, was turned back. For a moment, it looked familiar. Sebastian couldn’t tell in the dark light with the photo only half-developed, but the person looked almost like…

Oh. There was that pinching feeling again.

The guy in the photo looked like Dave Karofsky.

Sebastian inhaled sharply. He hadn’t thought about that guy in a while. Not since… God, he hated this feeling. He thought he’d gotten rid of it.

Wasn’t that what falling in love was supposed to do? Someone sees all of your horrible bits, tells you they love you anyway, and from then on you never have to hate yourself — wasn’t that the point?

Sure, you could compare yourself to them. Sebastian compared himself to Kurt a lot. Kurt’s goodness, his effortless creativity and talent, his sharp humor that kept Sebastian on his toes. His humility. Sebastian didn’t really have much of that.

But it had never bothered him before. It was just another aspect of his love, and it only made Kurt’s love that much more valuable.

Sitting in the disturbing quiet of the darkroom, however, staring at a photo of someone who may or may not be Dave Karofsky, Sebastian had never felt less like a person Kurt should love.

Sebastian knew, rationally, that he hadn’t been the sole trigger for Dave’s attempt. As Kurt had said to him once: “Dave Karofsky has much bigger things going on in his life than you.” But he’d still… been capable of… been the sort of person who could… to someone who was trying to be kind to him.

How was any of it fair? Dave had loved Kurt, Blaine had loved Kurt, and yet here Sebastian was, an overprivileged, emotionally immature, cruel, vindictive, mess of a person, who claimed the victory.

He could try to be better. He had. Every day, he watched Kurt be so good without even trying, and he did his best to emulate it. If Kurt donated to a charity, he would wait until he was gone and donate twice as much. If Kurt knew all the names of the people who worked at the corner store on his street, Sebastian would find out their names, and the names of their spouses, children, and dogs.

But none of it mattered! Because now Sebastian was trying. He remembered the person he used to be, he had never tried. Being cruel was effortless, it came as easily to him as walking or breathing. If being good was so much effort, and took so much conscious thought, wasn’t that proof that, fundamentally, he was a bad person?

How was it fair that a person like Kurt, to whom being good was second nature, was with him?

It wasn’t fair that Russ had been hurt. Sebastian didn’t know the guy, but it was still unfair. Unfair that Sebastian got to go to sleep, unharmed, in a warm bed, at home, next to the man he loved, who was way too good for him, with enough money that if he, God forbid, did get hurt, would not only be able pay for his medical bills, but would be treated at the best hospital in Manhattan. It was unfair that Russ needed to ask for donations. It was unfair that the news coverage on the attack sometimes sounded like it was blaming him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was unfair that Sebastian had been a dick to a million Dave Karofskys. So many people had been on the receiving end of his cutting cruelty at that bar that Sebastian was lucky, in a way, that only one of them had done what Dave did. It was unfair that Sebastian never faced any consequences for that. It was unfair that he had everything Dave wanted, and that Dave was far away doing God knew what.

Sebastian set another timer and stepped out into the hall for some air. He checked his phone out of habit, and the need to do something with his hands. He had texts waiting for him.

Dad

Jesus, I just heard about that kid on Kurt’s street. Call if you want to talk

Also tell Kurt to move out of Bushwick I don’t like that he’s there its not safe

Kurt ❤️

Call when you’re out of the darkroom you won’t believe what happened

Long story short: I was right. I always am.

Sebastian called Kurt immediately, his stomach churning with a need to hear his voice. Whether it would help or not he wasn’t sure.

Kurt answered almost immediately.

“‘Bas, you won’t believe it,” he said, in lieu of a greeting. Sebastian could hear the sounds of taxis and people talking in the background. “Carmen tore them to shreds. She said it was an excellent performance which, to be fair, it was. Of course it was, it was Blaine and Rachel, but then she said she would fail them because, like I said, the assignment wasn’t duets, and I’ve never seen either of them look so shocked, you would have loved it. But then she backtracked and said that because the performance was so good, she’d give them a chance for a do-over. Then Rachel said that she couldn’t do it because of ‘Funny Girl’ and Carmen told her to suck it up, basically. Anyway, Rachel’s furious. I left her and Blaine in the cafeteria, they were driving me crazy.”

“Where are you headed now?”

“Back to your place,” said Kurt. “I left my laptop there this morning and I want to finish my ‘Cat On A Hot Tin Roof’ essay. How’s the darkroom?”

Sebastian took a deep, shaky breath. “Fine. I’ll have to head back in there soon, I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

There was a brief pause. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? You sound… off.”

Damn Kurt and his magical mind-reading powers. “I’m fine. I think maybe I was just alone with my thoughts for the first time in a while. You know how much I hate that.”

Kurt chuckled. “God forbid you have to think for once in your life.”

“I’m not made for thinking,” Sebastian joked, trying to keep up the lighter mood. It certainly felt nicer paying attention to the dark hole that had just opened up in his stomach.

“No, you’re too pretty for that,” said Kurt. “Listen, babe, I’ve gotta go, I’m getting on the subway.”

“Of course, yeah,” Sebastian breathed. He didn’t want Kurt to go. The second the call ended he’d be alone in the quiet again, and the black hole would steal his attention. He wondered what he’d do with all of that self-loathing with nothing to distract him from it. “Am I making us dinner later?”

“Oh, actually no,” said Kurt. “Sorry, I meant to tell you, Rachel wants to grab dinner. I don’t think today is the day to cancel on her.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Sebastian swallowed his disappointment. He wouldn’t necessarily be alone. He could order pizza with Nick and Jeff. They could watch ‘Pitch Perfect’ again. But he didn’t want to. He wanted Kurt home, with him, in his arms and his bed.

At the same time he didn’t. Maybe seeing Kurt’s face would just make the black hole bigger and angrier. Maybe it would just make him feel more like an imposter.

“Don’t worry about me, you go have fun with Rachel.”

“Not sure how much fun it’ll be,” Kurt lamented. “‘Would much rather be with you.”

Sebastian’s eyes pricked but he tried to keep his tone light and cheerful. “Same. Let’s do a night just us soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, that would be perfect,” said Kurt. “Okay, I’m gonna go.”

“See you, babe. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Even after the phone call cut off with a soft ‘click’, Sebastian continued to hold his cell pressed into his ear. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was waiting for, but it didn’t come.

He checked his timer. He had a few seconds left on it.

He returned to the darkroom and to the tank, which he inverted. He set the timer again and observed the picture, substantially clearer than it had been before he’d stepped out.

The man in the picture was not Dave Karofsky. He could see that now. That realisation didn’t do much for the pain in his chest, though.

Sebastian wrung his hands. Then he grabbed his wired headphones and plugged them in. He ducked out of the room for two seconds to switch on his ‘60s Disco’ playlist and crank it loud enough that it was blasting.

It worked, for the most part. The familiar synths filled the empty silence and distracted him well enough. This would work. He would let the music wash over him and get his work done, so that by the end of the day he could return home and greet Kurt with a clear head.

Applying himself with a renewed focus to getting his film developed, and using the intervals to tidy the room and dance to the music, he managed to avoid the gaze of the strange, Dave-looking figure in the Times Square photo, and the thoughts it would invoke.

. ݁₊ ⊹ 🏙 . ݁˖ . ݁

Sebastian’s focus was almost unwavering. He took a break for coffee and a snack at around four in the afternoon, but went straight back to it as soon as he was finished. Then he worked until seven-ish, which was when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He ducked into the corridor. It was Kurt.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greeted, decidedly more chipper than earlier. It was a wonder what 60s disco music could do for one’s soul. It had almost made him forget the terrifying self-loathing that was nipping at his heels like a three-headed, mythical dog. “Have you had dinner already?”

“No, I ditched,” Kurt replied, sounding bitter and angry. “Well, she ditched. God, I’ll tell you about it later. I just called to say that I’m on my way to yours, are you there now?”

“I’m still at the studio, actually, I reached a flow state,” Sebastian corrected. “But I can be there in, like-” He checked the time on his phone. “An hour?”

“Don’t rush, I’m still in Bushwick,” said Kurt. “Can we order pizza? I can’t stand the thought of cooking right now.”

“Neither can I, pizza it is,” said Sebastian. “I don’t know if the guys are home, but they’ll probably want in.”

“We’ll talk about it when we’re all together. Honestly, I’m glad. Screw Rachel.”

“Screw her,” Sebastian agreed cheerfully. “Not sure why, but I’m happy to have you to myself.”

Kurt sighed fondly. “I’ll tell you about it later, get back to your flow state.”

“I will, see you later.”

The call ended and Sebastian set a timer on his phone for another hour. If Kurt was in Bushwick, it would take him longer than that to get to the East Village, and Sebastian wanted to be there when he arrived at the apartment.

He worked dutifully until the timer went off and then packed up his stuff, leaving the photos he’d finished hung on the lines to dry.

He bundled himself up in his coat and scarf and left the building. The weather wasn’t quite as cold as he had expected, so he decided to walk home and enjoy the atmosphere of the city. He tugged out his headphones so that he could hear it around him, the hustle and bustle.

He had only been walking for five minutes when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Kurt again, probably, updating him on the evening plans. Maybe he was already there and wanted to know his pizza order, or maybe he just wanted to walk and talk.

Sebastian took the phone out of his pocket with a small smile on his face, which faltered slightly when he saw that the call was coming from a number he didn’t recognise.

He answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I speak with Mr. Sebastian Smythe, please?” The voice was female. It was a little high-pitched, kind of like Rachel’s.

“Speaking.”

“Hi, Mr. Smythe, my name is Fran, I’m calling from Greenwich Village Hospital in New York. You are listed as the emergency contact for Kurt Hummel.”

Sebastian stopped cold in the middle of the street. Pedestrians, in their rush, shoved passed him. They were probably irritated by him, but he didn’t notice. He could barely feel them.

“Is he okay?” Somehow, Sebastian managed to choke that out.

“He has been brought into our emergency department, as he was found injured on a street in Bushwick.”

Sebastian’s vision swirled. Somehow, he stumbled through the crowd of people to reach the wall of a building that he let his body collapse into. Emergency department? Injured? Nothing this woman was saying was making any sense, she couldn’t have been talking about Kurt. This must have been some horrible mixup, someone was found injured and they’d been falsely identified as Kurt, that must have been it.

“I- uh. That’s…”

“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Fran continued. Her tone was firm and no-nonsense, like there was no room for error, which seemed odd to Sebastian because there obviously had been an error. Kurt wasn’t at the hospital, he was at Sebastian’s apartment waiting for him. He had to be, because Sebastian had no idea what he’d do if he wasn’t.

Fran continued talking. Somewhere through the haze of his own thoughts Sebastian heard the word ‘assault’. Russ. Bushwick. The men in the van.

Sebastian keeled over, clutching the wall like it would do something to stop his heart plummeting fifty feet.

“Right now he is receiving treatment and is stable, but will not be ready for visitors for at least another three hours. Nevertheless, you are welcome to come and wait.”

There was a pause. Was Sebastian supposed to answer? He couldn’t even string a coherent thought together, let alone put that thought into words.

He would go, of course he would. If that was what this lady was asking him.

“Yeah, I’ll get there.”

“Are you able to get here today?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. When you arrive, please head to the emergency department and check in at the front desk, let them know who you’re here for.”

“Right.”

“Do you have any immediate questions? I will answer as best as I’m able, but you’ll get more detailed answers if you speak to the physician when you’re here.”

Sebastian had a million questions. How? Why? Who? But, most of all-

“He’s okay, though, right? He’s not going to…” He couldn't finish that sentence.

Fran took a deep breath before answering. “He is in serious condition but we are taking care of him. I cannot make any predictions.”

Sebastian let out a sob that probably sounded more like a wail. His chest constricted tightly and his breath began coming in short, painful gasps.

What the fuck? How had everything gone so fucking wrong so quick?

“My advice is to get here as soon as possible, Mr. Smythe,” said Fran, her voice coming through more caring now than before. She could probably hear his heart breaking through the phone. “That way you can talk to the physician, and you’ll be the first to know any developments.”

Sebastian tried to breathe in deeply. He needed to get to the hospital, he couldn’t do that keeled over, having a panic attack on the side of the street.

“I’ll get there as soon as possible.”

“Okay, I will let the receptionists know to expect you.”

Sebastian ended the call. He needed a taxi.

He stumbled over to the side of the road and held out his hand, his eyes darting, anxiously looking for that flash of bright yellow. Thankfully, one of them noticed and pulled over.

“Greenwich Village Hospital, please,” he directed as soon as he got in.

The cab driver didn’t hesitate, perhaps noticing his very obvious distress, and drove off. Sebastian fumbled with his phone, acting purely on instinct.

His first impulse was to call Kurt, just to see if he would pick up. It was irrational, but he wasn’t in his right mind. There was still some hope, however faint, that this was all just some horrible, nightmarish mistake.

Sebastian listened to the sound of his phone ringing Kurt’s desperately. Every time another ring sounded, his heart broke a little more. Finally, it ended, and Kurt’s voicemail played. Sebastian hung up.

What now? Burt. Burt had to know. Would the hospital call him? Probably not, Sebastian was Kurt’s primary emergency contact and he’d picked up, they don’t go down the list unless they have to.

His fingers shook as he found Burt’s contact.

“Hey! Sebastian, how’s it going?” came Burt’s cheerful voice when he picked up.

Sebastian didn’t think he could say it. His tongue felt like wax in his mouth, it choked him. He couldn’t even come up with the words.

Apparently Burt could hear his hesitation.

“Sebastian, what’s going on?” he asked, more serious.

Sebastian breathed in deeply and when he let it out it came out as more of a pathetic sob. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “It’s Kurt, I just got a call from the hospital.”

Now it was Burt’s turn to be silent. There was a cluttering sound on the other end of the line and then Carole’s voice filled Sebastian’s ear.

“Something happened to Kurt?” she asked.

“I don’t know what, but he was in Bushwick,” Sebastian explained. They both knew what that meant. “He’s injured, they said he’s not conscious.”

“Oh, God,” whispered Carole, her voice a desperate plea. “Are you headed to the hospital now?”

“Yeah, I’m in a cab.”

“Good, sweetheart, thank you for telling us.” Carole’s voice became more muffled and distant as she apparently tried to talk to Burt. Then she came back. “We’ll be there as soon as possible, but it might take us a while.”

“Okay.”

“Keep him company, tell him we’re on our way,” Carole instructed. Sebastian couldn’t have been more grateful for her. It made him miss his own mother painfully. He wanted to be held and told everything was going to be alright. “Does Rachel know?”

“No, I still have to call her.” Sebastian winced at the thought of having to force the words out again.

“Don’t worry about it, honey, I’ll deal with that,” Carole assured. “You just worry about Kurt.”

Sebastian let out another sob, but this one was quieter. Tears wet his cheeks now, warm and horrible. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you need us to stay on the phone?”

“No,” Sebastian decided, glancing out the window at the big, white, ugly building the cab was pulling into. “I think I’m here.”

“Okay, keep us updated.”

“Is Burt okay?”

Carole sighed. “He will be if Kurt is.”

Sebastian choked down yet another vicious wail. The cab driver parked right outside the entrance. Sebastian chucked some money at him and thanked him distantly, muscle memory taking over. Then he clambered out of the car.

“I’ve gotta go, I’m here.”

“Thank you for telling us, Sebastian, we know how hard of a call this was.”

Sebastian just nodded fiercely, even though she couldn’t see him, and ended the call. He stormed through the doors, his legs shaking but moving with a conviction that seemed to outspeed everyone around him.

He followed the signs to the reception and ran up to the desk when he saw it.

“Hi, I’m Sebastian Smythe, I’m here for Kurt Hummel?”

The lady who was checking him in was not Fran. Her nametag said ‘Bridget’ and she was older than Fran had sounded. She tapped away at her computer.

“Ah, yes, here you are,” she confirmed. “Please take a seat over there-” She pointed to a depressing selection of plastic chairs, most of which occupied by people with gaunt, exhausted faces. “-and we will let you know if we have any updates.”

“Do you have any now?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Hummel is still in critical condition.”

Sebastian nearly hurled. His chest hurt, everything hurt. Everything was blurry. Maybe it was tears, he wasn’t sure. He stumbled over to a chair and collapsed into it, burying his face in his hands.

He didn’t cry. Maybe because there were too many people around, maybe because he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t stop until a doctor came in and told him everything was alright.

How could everything be alright, though? Even if Kurt wasn’t… Sebastian couldn’t even think it. Kurt was. He was, he could feel it. Kurt was in the building, and he was.

But even so, he would be changed forever. He’d been attacked, in a place he called home, and left on his own, injured and weak. How could life go on the same as it had been?

Sebastian tried to imagine it: meeting Kurt between classes and going for coffee, weekly dinners at the loft, watching movies together on the weekend, going on together as if none of it ever happened. It didn’t seem possible. He was different, Kurt would certainly be different. How different, Sebastian shuddered to think.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, a lump in his throat that wouldn’t budge, and tears that refused to be shed resting along his waterline. Finally, he had company.

“Sebastian!” came Rachel’s voice, panicked and trembling.

Sebastian looked up. He must have looked as bad as he felt because she immediately crouched down to his level.

“Have you heard anything?”

“No,” replied Sebastian, his voice raspy, as if his throat was filled with sand. “They won’t tell me anything.”

Rachel searched his face intently, worry creasing her forehead. “You need water. And something to eat, have you eaten?”

“I can’t eat.”

“Water, then.” She stood up, dumped her coat and bag on the seat next to him, and went off in search of something to drink. She came back with two paper cups. Sebastian downed the one she passed him, his thirst suddenly making itself known. She passed him the second and he finished that one off just as quick.

She sat down. Sebastian turned his head to the side to look closer at her face. She looked back. She looked lost and scared.

“I feel awful,” she confessed. A tear escaped her eye and fell down her cheek. “We had a fight. It was stupid, but I shouldn’t have let him walk alone, not after everything.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know any of the details yet, but he did know that it didn’t occur to him to be worried when Kurt had called and said that he was walking alone. If it didn’t occur to him, it definitely wouldn’t have occurred to Rachel.

Instead of replying, Sebastian just took her hand. She cared. She was annoying as shit, absurdly self-centred, and difficult for Sebastian to swallow most of the time, but Kurt was right about her. She had a heart of gold, and she cared. And they both loved and were worried for the same person, Sebastian had to find comfort in that.

Blaine, Sam, and Artie were the next to arrive. Sebastian’s hackles rose slightly at the sight of Blaine, but he fought it down. Blaine had a right to be here, as much as Sam or Rachel. Hell, as much as Sebastian, if he was being really honest, though he hated to admit it.

He looked worried, that was no surprise. His wide eyes, normally so full of strange, cartoonish wonder and excitement, were darting around anxiously, never settling on anything. He avoided looking in Sebastian’s direction and sat on the other side of Rachel. They exchanged some hushed words Sebastian couldn’t hear.

Artie wheeled himself to where Blaine sat, and Sam sat on Sebastian’s other side.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Sebastian’s face tightened as the lump in his throat grew and choked him. He let out a strange wheeze that Sam seemed to interpret as answer enough. Sebastian clutched his chest. The physical pain there.

Sam patted his back comfortingly. It felt nice. Suddenly, a thought hit him.

“Shit, Nick and Jeff,” he cursed. “I have to call them and tell them what happened.”

“I already did, man, don’t worry,” Sam assured him. Sam had grown close with Sebastian’s friends in the months since they’d all been in New York. It had been a pleasant, unexpected surprise that they all had so much in common, so it wasn’t odd that Sam had thought of it. “I figured you had enough going on.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian choked out.

“It’s been forever, I have to ask,” Rachel huffed. She stalked over to the desk. Sebastian watched her stern conversation with Bridget with only marginal interest. They were waiting for a doctor, the receptionists didn’t know anything.

Rachel returned looking stressed and put out. “I’m not family, they won’t tell me anything. I told them we’re all he’s got until Burt gets here, but they wouldn’t budge.”

“Do you think that means there’s been a development?” Sebastian asked, heart pounding loud enough that he could hear it in his ears.

Rachel shook her head sadly. “I don’t know.”

Sebastian had to move, he couldn’t stay still. He got up and wandered down the hall he’d walked through when he arrived. ‘Pacing’ was probably a more accurate term. He went all the way to one end and all the way back at least three times before he caught Nick, Jeff, and Mercedes coming in together.

“Seb!” Jeff greeted, relief and distress all mixed in his tone.

Sebastian let himself breathe a little at the sight of the familiar faces of his friends. He threw his arms around both of them, yanking them into a bone-crushing hug. They were a poor substitute for the person he wanted to be holding, but gave him comfort nonetheless.

Over their shoulders, he saw a man in a white coat emerge from behind the emergency room door. Sebastian scrambled over to him.

“Is he okay? What happened?” It all came out in a dizzying, breathless rush.

“He has a hairline fracture above his right eye socket, some other cuts and bruising. He’s alive and he will be okay.” Sebastian let out a pained gasp of sheer relief. His knees buckled a little but Sam’s firm hand on his arm stopped him from falling. “He’s sleeping now from the morphine, but you can see him.”

That permission was all Sebastian needed to rush off, before he realised he had no idea what room Kurt was in.

“H301,” the doctor supplied.

Sebastian nodded and stalked off, his eyes scanning the room numbers. He knew that he was being tailed by a large group, but didn’t care. His brain just kept repeating Kurt’s room number.

Finally, they made it, and Sebastian rushed in. His eyes flew to the one occupied bed. There he was.

If the doctor hadn’t assured Sebastian that he was alive, that he was only sleeping, Sebastian would have had a heart attack at the sight of Kurt in that bed, unresponsive, blank-faced, and still to the world.

Sebastian moved towards him timidly, as if he was afraid of waking him, or moving something, or somehow disrupting the strange vision in front of him. The closer he got, the more sure he was that he wasn’t dreaming. Kurt was here. He was.

His left eye was purple and bruised. His face was scarred: his left cheek, across his hairline, his right eyebrow, his nose, and his mouth, all tainted with some kind of cut. Sebastian also saw a bruise on his neck, dark and disgusting. To the side of it was one that was familiar to him, as he had been the one to give it weeks before with his mouth. It was faint, very faint. So much so that he was sure he was the only person in the room who saw it, but he did.

The sight of it took him back to a week or so ago, before Russ. It had been a rainy morning and it was dark outside when their alarms had gone off. Both of them had lectures, they needed to get out of bed, but the outside world was cold and damp, and their bed was warm and soft and had each other in it — so what were they supposed to do?

Sebastian had always had a thing for Kurt’s neck, it was just so soft and clear of any imperfections, it begged to be marked. Kurt always teased him about it.

“You’re a fucking vampire!” he’d complained when he looked in the mirror and saw it, a giggle softening his tone.

Sebastian had grinned, sauntered closer, and let his mouth meet his throat again.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

Kurt hadn’t. He’d spun around in Sebastian’s arms and launched himself at him. Then they’d gone at it again. They didn’t leave the loft until much later.

It seemed so long ago now. So distant. Like it had happened to two completely different people. And yet here it was on Kurt’s skin, evidence that it had happened, right beside evidence of everything else.

“Have you been made aware of the full police report?” asked the doctor, who Sebastian hadn’t known was with them.

Sebastian shook his head. The doctor explained how it had happened. The man who’d made the call was being attacked by some men in a truck. Kurt had stepped in, the man had run off, but Kurt had been left behind with the attackers. It was two-against-one.

“Thank you for telling us,” said Mercedes when the story was over. Sebastian’s words were stuck in his throat.

Sebastian heard the click of the door closing as, presumably, the doctor left the room.

“I feel so responsible,” said Rachel. “I left him all alone.”

“If you’d been with him he would have done the same thing,” said Blaine.

A heat in Sebastian’s chest flared at his voice. What the fuck was this guy doing here? What gave him the right to still be a part of Kurt’s life? To be with him at his most vulnerable? To speculate on what he ‘would have done’?

His breath must have quickened enough that Sam, at least, noticed, because he felt his hand on his back.

“Do you need a minute?” Sam asked.

Sebastian nodded.

“Of course,” said Rachel. The group began to leave. Sebastian thought he heard a small noise of protest from Blaine, but it was thankfully quietened down by Mercedes saying something. If it hadn’t been, Sebastian would have probably said something he shouldn’t.

The door clicked open and shut, and Sebastian was left alone with Kurt.

“Hey,” he said, because for whatever reason he felt like he had to. He had never been able to be around Kurt, asleep or awake, without saying something. Sometimes, in the dead of night, when he was meant to be sleeping, and Kurt was dead to the world beside him, Sebastian would whisper into the night all of his thoughts, just in case Kurt could hear them in his dreams. They were never anything spectacular, just whatever was keeping him up, which was usually the plot of the show they were watching, something he was working on at school, or a book he was reading. It made sense, he figured, to do the same now. Only, he didn’t really have any thoughts. Or, at least, none that he could put words to.

How could he possibly put into words the depth of his feelings? His pain, his heartbreak? He had never been able to put his feelings into words, he’d always explained things in other ways, and Kurt had always understood.

Sebastian would tell Kurt he loved him but that never seemed to cover it, so he expressed his love in bed, or by taking photos of Kurt or of things Kurt loved, or buying him expensive gifts. Now, though, none of those methods of communication were available or, to Sebastian, sufficient.

How could Sebastian make Kurt know, make him understand, how much he loved him? Now more than ever.

He didn’t know, so he just pulled up a chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving Kurt’s face.

Shit, he needed to call Burt and update him. Sebastian grabbed his phone and dialled the number. Maybe he was on a plane. He hadn’t asked Rachel about Burt and Carole’s travel plans, which she probably knew better than he did.

Thankfully, after only two rings, Burt picked up.

“Sebastian,” said Burt. “Rachel just called and told us the good news. Are you with him now?”

“I am,” Sebastian confirmed. His eyes stayed glued to Kurt’s face. Still as heartbreakingly handsome as it had ever been.

“How bad is it?” Burt asked.

“I have no idea,” Sebastian confessed. “The doctor didn’t seem worried, so I think he’s fine. Some scarring though. It’s scary.”

“On his face?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian’s voice trembled. “Kinda all over.”

“Jesus,” breathed Burt. “And, what, he went all ‘Braveheart’? He did this himself?”

Sebastian reached out and took Kurt’s hand. It was warm, thank God.

“I think so. Definitely sounds like something he would do.”

Burt swore. “What was he thinking?”

“Probably something very noble,” said Sebastian. He winced at the thought of it, the image of Kurt bleeding on the floor of a dark alley. “Burt, I’m so sorry,” he said all in a rush. “I should have been there, I should have taken care of him, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Burt chided sternly. “Don’t apologise for shit, you did nothing wrong. We both know he would have done the same thing either way.”

“Sure, but at least I could have helped!”

“Then both of you would be in the hospital,” said Burt. “And anyway, regret isn’t helpful right now, there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Instead of allowing himself any forgiveness, Sebastian focused all of his attention on Kurt’s hands, the knuckles of which he now saw were red and bruised.

“He got in a punch,” said Sebastian, unable to keep quiet.

“What?”

“I’m looking at his knuckles,” Sebastian explained. He remembered the Dalton fight club, and how his friend’s knuckles would get bruised and battered just like Kurt’s were. “He got someone.”

There came a few seconds of silence before Sebastian heard laughter on the other end of the line. Sebastian couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle himself.

“That goddamn kid,” said Burt. “Well, good. At least there’s that. ‘Still gonna kill him, though.”

“Oh, me too,” Sebastian laughed wetly. “As soon as he wakes up.”

“Text me when he does.”

“I will.”

“Listen to me, Sebastian,” said Burt. Sebastian held the phone tighter. “I don’t want you feeling guilty, do you hear me? You did everything you could. I know you love him, I know you would have done anything to stop this from happening.”

“I would have.”

Another stretch of silence between them. Sebastian listened in to Kurt’s breathing, steady and easy.

“We won’t be there for another four hours, at least,” said Burt. “Can you keep him company until I’m there?”

“Of course,” answered Sebastian immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good kid,” said Burt. “Text me when he wakes up. And tell him that I love him and that I’m gonna kill him.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian couldn’t think of what Burt could possibly be thanking him for. He signed off and ended the call.

At least Burt wasn’t mad. ‘Didn’t mean Sebastian didn’t still hate himself, but at least his boyfriend’s scary dad wasn’t gonna hunt him down for sport.

“Jesus Christ, Kurt,” Sebastian whispered into the empty room. His throat tightened. He needed to cry, he’d been holding it in too long.

He glanced up at Kurt’s beautiful face. He’d come so close to losing it.

He let the tears come, and the angry, vicious sobs that came with them. It was more of a release than anything, guttural and sad and relieved all in one.

He bent over and pressed his forehead into Kurt’s hand. He was alive. Blessedly, miraculously alive, and on the way to recovery. But, fuck, was it horrible anyway.

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Sebastian must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew someone was gently shaking his shoulder.

“Hm?” he mumbled.

“Sorry!” Rachel whispered. “You’re probably exhausted, but I figured that if you need to sleep you should probably use the free bed.” She gestured to the empty hospital cot next, but not quite close enough, to Kurt’s.

Sebastian assessed himself. He had fallen asleep with his head resting on Kurt’s hand. His neck ached and his contacts had dried in his eyes uncomfortably.

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“Can’t have been more than twenty minutes,” said Rachel.

Sebastian stood up and stretched, muscles creaking. He glanced down at Kurt again, as devastatingly beautiful and blank as it had been before he dozed off. Sebastian was tired, physically and emotionally, but the thought of succumbing to sleep again, potentially missing Kurt waking up, filled him with dread.

“I need coffee,” he said.

Rachel nodded. “Do you want me to get you some?”

Sebastian considered. It was sweet of Rachel to offer, but Sebastian needed to stretch his legs and get out of the room, not to mention give someone else some time with Kurt.

The more he blinked, the more his lenses settled in his eyes, but he knew he’d have to take them out at some point. He didn’t keep his glasses on him, generally, because he was an idiot, so he would have to go home and get them. Or ask Nick and Jeff to grab them for him. Maybe he’d do that while he was out.

“I can go myself. Thank you, though,” he said.

“Of course.”

“Could you text me if he wakes up?”

“I doubt it’ll happen in the two seconds you’re gone,” Rachel assured him, probably hearing the worry in his voice.

“Still.”

“Of course I will, Kurt will want to see you.” Rachel reached out and touched Sebastian’s arm comfortingly. Surprisingly, it was nice. Sebastian nodded and reluctantly left the room and Kurt in Rachel’s hands.

There was instant coffee at the end of the hall on a trolley. He was pouring himself a paper cup of it when Mercedes rounded the corner. Immediately, she wrapped him in a warm hug.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Sebastian,” she said. “I hope you know how much I’m praying for Kurt right now.”

Sebastian nodded and thanked her, even though he was as much of an atheist as Kurt was. It was the thought that counted. He knew what Mercedes was really saying, which was that she was doing everything she thought would help. Sebastian could relate to that.

Artie was behind her, as were Nick and Jeff.

“I can’t believe Kurt did that,” said Artie.

“I can,” said Sebastian.

Mercedes nodded sagely. “He’s such a good person. It’s so awful that we live in a world where these things happen.”

She was right. Kurt was a good person. Too damn good to be lying in a hospital bed. Too good for Sebastian, who wanted to murder the people who put him there.

Everything was too quiet in the hospital, at least this end. The only sounds were quiet, respectful chatter, faint beeps, and the shuddering of metal carts being moved around. It was so different from the sounds Sebastian had grown to associate with New York City and Kurt, which were mostly sirens and loud horns, cars screeching, and people having loud conversations on the phone. This place felt so far removed from all of that, like it existed on an entirely different plane of existence.

“He’s gonna be okay, though,” Jeff said. “That’s what really matters.”

Sebastian nodded. He didn’t really know what else to say about any of it.

“I’ve gotta get back,” he said. Everyone nodded and exchanged sympathetic glances. “You guys don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“Of course we’re staying,” said Mercedes. “We’re family.”

Sebastian nodded again, that seemed all he was capable of now. He excused himself and started the walk back to the room. Just before he passed through the door, his ears caught on to the sound of a very familiar voice, humming, or potentially singing. Sebastian’s eyes darting towards the figure he’d assumed was Rachel, sitting by Kurt’s bed. His eyes burned.

Fucking Blaine was singing a fucking song.

“What the hell are you doing?” he cried, storming into the room.

Blaine scrambled to his feet. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying.

“I-um…”

“You were singing!”

Blaine spluttered, eyes darting around. “So?”

“So?” Sebastian repeated. He advanced further so he and Blaine were only a few feet away from one-another. “He’s in a fucking coma, he got beaten up, he could have died — and you think now is the time for a fucking musical number?”

“Hey, Kurt would understand!” Blaine insisted, fidgety eyes finally locking on Sebastian’s face. “You never got how he and I communicated, this is how I show him I’m here for him.”

“By workshopping a song for your Midwinter Critique in his hospital room? Let me guess, you were singing ‘Sondheim’?” Blaine rolled his eyes but didn’t answer the question, which told Sebastian everything he needed to know. “You are so unbelievable. What makes you think he even cares if you’re here for him or not?”

“I was his first love, that means something,” Blaine seethed.

“You cheated, that means something,” Sebastian snarled. “Get it through your head, you lost.”

“You mean you stole.”

Sebastian could have punched him, but they were interrupted.

“Woah, what’s going on?” came Sam’s cautious voice from the door behind Sebastian. Blaine’s eyes flicked in his direction. Sam must have seen the anger there, coupled with Sebastian’s hostile stance, because he placed himself in between them.

Sebastian never let his eyes stray from Blaine’s face, cataloguing the anger, pain, and embarrassment there. He almost felt guilty. A pang of pity shot through him, as he imagined how he’d feel in Blaine’s shoes. There was no room for it right now in his mind, not with all his anger and resentment clouding his thinking.

“Sebastian?”

Sam had been talking to him and he hadn’t even realised.

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted a minute alone,” Sam repeated.

Sebastian nodded, finally tearing his eyes from Blaine. Sam tugged Blaine from the room, at only a slight noise of protest. With them out of his sight, Sebastian could see what it had all been: a distraction from his real pain. When Blaine moved away, and his vision filled once again with the image of Kurt lying on the hospital bed, it was like a dark cloud finally passing to reveal the sunshine behind it.

“Fuck,” he sighed. Kurt would hate that he’d fought with Blaine over something so stupid. Did it matter that he’d been singing? Wasn’t it just another version of Mercedes’ prayers? It was how those guys expressed themselves, it was how Kurt expressed himself, Sebastian was a selfish dick for trying to stop that.

Still, it had stung. He’d seen Blaine, acting like he had just as much of a right to be at Kurt’s side as Sebastian did, and seen red. It was childish, but it had happened, and he still felt it burning a hole in his chest.

Sebastian took a deep, steadying breath. It wasn’t hard, in the quiet, to hear Blaine and Sam’s conversation outside. He tried to tune it out, but he couldn’t help the snippets that floated through.

“I know it’s awful, Blaine,” Sam was saying. “We’re all feeling it.”

“It’s not the same, though.”

“We love him, you love him, it is the same.”

Blaine said something back that Sebastian couldn’t make out.

“Well, to Kurt it is,” said Sam.

“That’s not fair.”

“We keep having this conversation, Blaine, the answer isn’t going to change,” Sam insisted. “Maybe you will get him back, maybe him and Sebastian will break up, but that’s not what’s happening right now.”

Sebastian seethed quietly at the thought of it. Fucking Blaine, making plans for the future, talking about them with his friends.

Blaine said something again, but he wasn’t enunciating the way Sam was. He was probably doing that annoying thing he did when he got all sulky and lowered his voice.

Sam sighed. “It’s not about us, though. It’s about Kurt. And when he wakes up, he’ll want Sebastian there more than you. That’s what’s important right now.”

“It’s so unfair,” Blaine whispered, as if that was the thing that was unfair about this whole situation.

Either Sam didn’t reply, or they had walked away. Either way, Sebastian couldn’t hear them anymore.

It was sweet that Sam was defending Sebastian’s relationship with Kurt. He liked the guy, he didn’t think there was any bad blood there, but it was nice to know that he was defending Sebastian even to his best friend.

Sebastian drank his coffee, gazing up at Kurt’s bruised face.

Wake up, he thought. Wake up, wake up, wake up.

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Kurt woke up an hour later. Sebastian hadn’t moved from where he’d been sitting. The doctor had come in and out to discuss Kurt’s condition, how many painkillers he was on, how long his recovery would take and what it would entail. Sebastian had written it all down in his phone, and texted everything to Burt, who replied to say that he was three hours away.

Rachel also came in and out, but she was exhausted and had rehearsals, so Sebastian excused her, as well as everyone else.

That meant that, when it did finally happen, it was when Sebastian was alone in the room, gazing at Kurt’s bruised knuckles, mind constantly on the verge of wandering to dark places.

It started with Kurt taking a deep breath, and Sebastian’s heart leapt out of his chest as his eyes flicked up to Kurt’s face. This was the most Kurt had moved since he’d gotten here.

Then Kurt’s eyes had flickered, and then he’d stretched, just a little. It was like he was waking up from a nap, it was so natural. As if he’d dozed off on the couch reading Vogue, and Sebastian was shaking him awake for dinner.

Sebastian’s heart pounded as Kurt’s eyes, now open and awake, found his, and — Sebastian could have died — Kurt’s lips widened into a tired, happy smile.

“Hey,” he cooed.

Sebastian choked out an incredulous, disbelieving laugh. “Hey yourself,” he replied, his eyes damp.

Kurt squinted as he looked around the room. For a moment, he looked deeply troubled, and then the memories of the night must have hit him because a look of realisation painted his beautiful features.

“Oh,” was all he said.

“Yeah,” said Sebastian. “Your dad’s on his way.”

“Good.”

“Are you-” Sebastian began. Then he changed his mind. “Is there anything I can do? The doctors said you’re on a pretty low dose of morphine, so you can have more if you want. Or some water, maybe? They said you’d be thirsty.”

“Water would be good,” said Kurt.

Sebastian poured him a paper cup of it from the jug he’d prepared on the bedside table. Kurt’s hand trembled as he reached for it.

“Can I?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt watched his hand as it twitched and gave a rueful sigh. “If you must.”

Sebastian almost chuckled. He brought the cup to Kurt’s lips and gently tilted it so the water trickled into his mouth, carefully avoiding the side with the cut. Kurt was thirsty, so they got through two and a half cups before he called it quits.

“No more, I’ll pee,” he said. Sebastian let out a huff of exhausted, incredulous laughter. “What? I will!”

“That’s all you have to say?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt shrugged, a rueful, almost playful smile tugging on his lips. “What do you want me to say? ‘I am Justice’?”

“Don’t even start, Bruce Wayne,” Sebastian warned. “Your dad has already threatened to kill you, but I’m thinking I’ll get there first. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” said Kurt. “But if you’re looking for an apology, you’re not gonna get one.”

“I’m not,” Sebastian replied quickly. “An explanation would be nice. A promise not to do it again, even nicer.”

Kurt shrugged again. “I can promise to carry a weapon from now on?”

“Not funny,” Sebastian deadpanned. “Do you have any idea the heart attack you gave me?”

Kurt bit the non-injured side of his lip. “That I am sorry for. And for scaring my dad. But you would have done the same thing, so would he.”

Sebastian had to admit that was true. Well, maybe for Burt. Sebastian wanted to have faith in his own goodness, but knew enough of his nastiness, and self-serving nature to doubt it.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Sebastian admitted in a rush. “I was going insane.”

Kurt flipped his hand so that his palm faced up, an invitation that Sebastian took to hold it. “Why?” he asked. “You knew I’d wake up.”

“Not until, like, two hours ago,” said Sebastian. “Even then, I didn’t really believe it until right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered, eyes shiny with tears.

“I love you so much, Kurt,” said Sebastian, as if it was some new confession. In a way, it was. He had never meant it quite like this.

Kurt squeezed his hand. “I love you too. So much.”

Sebastian sniffed. He couldn’t look Kurt in the eye, not with Kurt’s love hanging between them, as present and unwavering as ever.

“Hey,” Kurt whispered. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Sebastian insisted. “I mean, everything. Everything is going on, but nothing you don’t already know.”

“Okay,” said Kurt. Sebastian was surprised, normally Kurt pushed, but when he looked up he saw Kurt’s eyelids drooping.

Sebastian warmed. “Sleep. We’ll talk later.”

Kurt nodded and seemed to be about to drift off when he apparently had more to say. “Wait - kiss me.”

“Now?”

“Yes, before I fall asleep,” Kurt hurried.

“You won’t remember it.”

“Not the point.”

Sebastian raised himself up off the chair and moved so that he hovered over Kurt’s face. Kurt was gazing up at him with his big beautiful eyes and smiling as if Sebastian truly was the only person he ever wanted to look at. It was almost too much, Sebastian almost had to look away, like he was staring into the sun. But instead he leaned forward and kissed Kurt’s injured lip with as much tenderness and love as he could possibly pour into such a gentle touch. When he pulled back, Kurt was still smiling and gazing up at him. He sighed contentedly.

“Okay, now I’m going to sleep,” he announced.

Sebastian grinned and watched as Kurt did exactly that.

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Sebastian texted Burt to let him know that Kurt had been awake for a grand total of ten minutes, which was apparently enough to tide him over until he arrived.

In the two hours that passed when Sebastian was waiting, Kurt woke up and fell asleep again a few more times. Sometimes they talked, sometimes Kurt wasn’t awake enough for that, but every time a part of Sebastian’s heart patched itself up.

Finally, Burt arrived. Sebastian had been out grabbing coffee when it happened, and watched Burt storm through the doors of the waiting with the stricken look of a terrified father. His eyes found Sebastian and he deflated slightly.

“Where is he?” Burt asked.

Sebastian gave him the room number and directions hurriedly. “He wasn’t awake when I left, but he’s in and out pretty often. I’ll give you guys some time.”

Burt patted his arm gratefully and sped off down the hall. The tightness in Sebastian’s chest loosened, knowing that the person Kurt loved the most in the world was here.

It was only now that his body seemed to allow him to feel his exhaustion. It had been — shit — seventeen hours? Since he’d slept? If he didn’t count that twenty-minute accidental power nap from earlier. He couldn’t leave though. He wasn’t planning on leaving the hospital until Kurt was fully awake and functioning, at the very least. Even then, he wouldn’t go far.

He wondered what Burt’s plans were. He couldn’t sleep in the hospital, not with his back the way that it was. He would need a hotel. Sebastian could ask. He wandered down the hall to Kurt’s room and peered through the window. Kurt was awake and he and Burt were talking. Sebastian couldn’t interrupt them.

He could look at hotels nearby. That would be good. It would give him something to do.

Sebastian found a chair in a cornered off alcove just around the corner from Kurt’s room and started scrolling through. There wasn’t much available, not for a decent price, and Sebastian knew Burt wouldn’t let him pay. Burt could stay at his place, sleep in his bed. Sebastian could take the couch if Kurt insisted he go home for a night. He’d have to change the sheets, he’d do that when he went home, which would probably be tomorrow morning. Maybe. Depended on how Kurt felt.

Sebastian should probably text Nick and Jeff about it. He didn’t have to do it now, it was 4 AM.

Shit, what about NYADA? What about Kurt’s Midwinter Critique? Sebastian texted Rachel and asked if there was anything that could be done, but didn’t receive a reply. She was probably asleep. He could text Blaine but stubbornly he didn’t want to. He could email Carmen himself. Kurt probably wouldn’t like that.

What else? Vogue! Sebastian didn’t have Isabelle’s contact information. He could probably get it from Kurt’s laptop, but that was in the room with Burt so he’d have to wait until they were done talking—

“Seb,” said a voice. Sebastian looked up from his phone. It was Nick.

“Hey,” said Sebastian, surprised. “What are you doing here? I thought you left forever ago.”

Nick scrubbed a tired hand through his hair. “I figured you’d need some supplies.” He held aloft Sebastian’s overnight bag, a black duffel that he used when he stayed over at the loft. “I need to get home pretty quick, though, I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”

Sebastian accepted the back of supplies gratefully and sifted through it. Inside was a change of clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, a couple of cereal bars and, thank God, his glasses. Immediately, Sebastian took out his shitty lenses and exchanged them for the blessed, irritation-less relief of his geeky frames.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, man. Seriously.” Realising his sudden hunger, he ripped open a cereal bar and started scarfing it down.

“It’s no problem,” said Nick. “You would have done the same for one of us, right?”

Sebastian made a noise of agreement through another mouthful of the cereal bar.

Though the exchange had been completed, and there wasn’t much more for Nick to do, he seemed to hesitate to leave.

“‘You okay?” Sebastian asked.

Nick’s eyes flitted up from the floor, to Sebastian’s face, and then back down again. “I should be asking you that,” he said.

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m dealing. I wanna know how you are.”

There was a beat before Nick sighed roughly. “It’s scary times, man, I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, I don’t need to tell you, you get it. Me ‘n Jeff were freaked out about Russ, this is just… on a whole different fucking level. Yeah… whatever, like I said, you already know all of this. I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

What could Sebastian say to that? He couldn’t offer comfort, he had none to give. He couldn’t say that the chances of something like what happened to Russ happening to them were small, because today had proven how much that didn’t fucking matter. He couldn’t say that they were experiencing the worst of it, and that it was all uphill from here, because he had no knowledge of the future. He hadn’t known, when he’d woken up this morning in Kurt’s arms, that he’d be falling asleep in a hospital cot mere hours later.

Words escaped him, so he did what he could. He hugged his friend. Together, they shared their fear, and held the weight of it together, so that it didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. With any luck, the next time those evil fucks tried something, they could stand against them together. Maybe they couldn’t hope that the evil itself would be extinguished, but they could hope for decent odds for standing up against it.

Nick left, then, and Sebastian was left alone in the hospital again. But he didn’t feel as alone as before. Down the hall was his boyfriend, miraculously alive and brave as hell, and his boyfriend’s dad, just as brave as his son and fiercely protective of him in a way that gave Sebastian comfort. At the end of the phone line was his dad, who would sue the state of New York if he thought it would help Kurt at all. Leaving the hospital was his friend, who had dragged himself all the way to Greenwich to bring him supplies and who was just as scared as Sebastian was.

He had all that and more. He had Archie and Nate, and Lacey, and Jeff, and Rachel, and Sam, and Mercedes, and Artie, and, hell, even Blaine.

Yeah, he wasn’t alone. Still, fear did its best to consume him. The moment his mind concluded that it was not, in fact, as alone and despairing as it had thought, it moved onto its secondary concern: Do I deserve it?

Sebastian thought of Russ. Had he been alone?

He thought of Dave. Again. He’d certainly been alone, no thanks to Sebastian.

Sebastian couldn’t even say with certainty that, if he’d been in Kurt’s shoes, he would have done anything to stop the attack on the nameless man who’d called 911 for Kurt. He would have called the police himself, probably, and watched from a safe distance, but he would not have put himself into the fray. Not like Kurt did.

Where did Sebastian, with all of his rotten, cowardly ways, fit into all of this love and bravery and acceptance? What had he ever done in his pathetic, puny fucking existence to deserve the love of a man who had instincts like that? Who was so good that goodness was his first impulse?

The hospital around Sebastian moved and he sat back down in the waiting chair. It was the wrong place, the wrong time, and certainly the most naval-gazing thing he could be feeling right now, but he couldn’t help it. Coursing through his brain was something akin to loneliness. He was not alone, he had established as much, but there was no doubt in his mind… he was undeserving of his not-aloneness.

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There was no way of knowing how long Sebastian stewed like that before Burt came to fetch him. When he did, his eyes were alight with amusement.

“Come see him, Sebastian, he’s way out of it,” Burt chuckled. “Doctor Jenkins came in to give him an anaesthetic and… You have to see it for yourself, it’s hilarious.”

Hilarity. That was what Sebastian needed. The thought of Kurt, loopy and happy from a drug and completely unable to control his words, was certainly enough to snap Sebastian out of his funk, at least momentarily.

“By the way, kid,” said Burt. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell.”

“Is there a right way to take that?”

Burt shrugged. “Probably not. Are you okay?”

“Kurt’s alive,” said Sebastian simply. “I’m floating on air.”

“Hm,” Burt groused. “You still need to sleep.”

“I do,” Sebastian conceded. “And I will. I just can’t yet.”

That seemed to pacify Burt. And, anyway, they were at Kurt’s room, so it didn’t matter. Immediately, upon entering, Sebastian was greeted very enthusiastically by the occupant of the bed.

“Glasses!” Kurt cheered.

An uncontrollable grin spread across Sebastian’s face as he took in his boyfriend, more alert than he’d seen him since arriving at the hospital, propped up in his bed by pillows, and gazing at Sebastian with a wide, dopey smile.

“Hey, handsome,” said Sebastian, pulling up a chair by the bed and taking Kurt’s hand when it made a grabby motion at him.

“You’re handsome,” Kurt sighed wistfully, glassy eyes trained on him, like looking away would be painful. “Sebastian.”

“Yes, honey?”

“I missed you.”

Sebastian grinned impossibly wider. “I wasn’t gone for long. Like, an hour. Max.”

“Do you have any idea how long an hour is when you’re on drugs?”

“Hey, you weren’t on drugs when we were talkin’!” Burt cried.

Kurt leaned in close to Sebastian, giving his dad the side eye. “I wanted to be. He just yelled at me.”

“Hey!”

“Well, do you feel better now?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt nodded and relaxed into the pillow. “So much better. Now, we must discuss my Midwinter Critique.”

“Of course,” said Burt.

“I’ve texted Rachel, I think she’ll sort it out with Carmen—” Sebastian interjected.

“Shh.” Kurt held up a stern, silencing hand. “We’ll figure all of that out later, right now we need to talk about what I’m going to sing.”

Burt snorted. “What are your options?”

“Me and Seb talked about ‘Giants In The Sky’, but I don’t think it’s the right fit,” said Kurt. “It’s very important that I upstage Blaine and Rachel.”

“You’ll do that anyway, you’ve just come back from the dead,” said Sebastian.

Kurt shook his head and scrunched his nose. “A good performer doesn’t rely on context… or whatever it was my acting teacher told me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, I need to be better than Blaine and Rachel. They’ve been annoying me.”

“They’ve been annoying me too,” Sebastian admitted.

“They’re always annoying you,” Kurt giggled.

“I don’t blame him,” Burt chimed in. “‘Gotta say, I was never fully onboard with the Blaine-thing.”

“Oh, Burt, you have no idea how much that means to me,” Sebastian confessed.

“‘Never said I’m fully onboard with the you-thing either,” replied Burt teasingly.

Sebastian clutched his hand to his chest like he’d been shot, which made Kurt dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“What else do I have to do to prove myself?” Sebastian lamented.

Burt considered. “Your dad’s Porsche would be nice…”

“That has more to do with my dad than me.”

“You don’t want that car, dad,” warned Kurt, finally coming up for air.

“And why’s that?”

Sebastian tugged on Kurt’s arm and tried to catch his eye, but there was almost nothing he could do, the damage was being done. Kurt was giggling and blushing like a drunk teenager. “Because—”

“Kurt!” Sebastian interjected desperately.

Kurt just snorted. “Because, me and Sebastian—”

“Oh, my God!” Burt groaned, hands clapping over his ears. “No! Stop!”

Sebastian’s head fell into his hands, his face furious red, but Kurt just kept laughing like he’d told the world’s funniest joke.

“Jesus Christ,” Burt cursed. He massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers and scrunched his eyes shut, as if desperately trying to erase the image from his mind. “Does Oscar know about this?”

Sebastian shook his head guiltily. “‘Would appreciate it if you didn’t tell him.”

“Oh, I’m telling him!”

“No!” Kurt cried, though sounding far too happy to be genuinely bothered by anything.

“Okay, Sebastian,” Burt began, obviously too amused and happy about Kurt’s happiness to care that much about the car. “You can have my seal of approval, and I won’t tell your dad, if you promise me never to touch my boy again.”

Sebastian winced as Kurt dramatically protested.

“No! Sebastian, don’t listen to him!”

“I hate this conversation,” Sebastian groaned.

“You and me, both,” Burt agreed.

Kurt just laughed, watching the pair of them with unrestrained fondness.

“You are so out of it,” said Sebastian.

Kurt shook his head, then seemed to get distracted by how it felt to shake his head, because he didn’t stop, which made him look like he was made of rubber.

“Hm, maybe I’ll sing ‘I’m Still Here’,” Kurt mused, still shaking his head back and forth. “You know. Because I’m still here.”

Burt and Sebastian exchanged an amused look.

“Sure, honey,” said Sebastian. “You’d kill that song.”

Kurt yawned big enough that his jaw clicked and his eyelids drooped.

“You should rest up, kid,” said Burt.

“No, I’m having fun!” Kurt protested weakly, but his head, which had still been stuck on the pendulum swing of the head-shake, dropped back against the pillows.

“We’ll still be here when you wake up,” Sebastian assured softly.

There was a look of frustrated indecision that crossed Kurt’s face, but exhaustion seemed to make him relent. “Promise?” he asked.

Sebastian smiled. “Where else would I be going?”

Those were the last words they exchanged before Kurt fell asleep again, heavy eyelids drifting shut almost immediately after. That left Sebastian and Burt in the room on their own, Sebastian’s hand still holding Kurt’s in a loose grip.

“Listen—”

“I was thinking—”

They began talking at the same time. Burt gestured for Sebastian to go first.

“I was thinking that I could take the cot,” said Sebastian, gesturing to the empty bed next to Kurt. “If they need it, obviously they’ll kick me out, but I figure I can use it until then.”

“If one of us is gonna stay, kid, I think it should be me,” said Burt.

Sebastian shook his head. “Kurt would be pissed at you if you didn’t stay in a real bed, you know he worries about your back.”

“Well, he’s very dramatic about my back, I can handle a hospital bed.”

“What if they need you to move to the chair?”

“Then I’ll handle it,” said Burt.

“Seriously, I think you should go to a hotel,” said Sebastian. “Or you can stay at my place, or the loft, whatever you want. I’ll call you if something happens.”

“No, Sebastian—”

“You’ve been travelling for hours!”

“And you’ve been in this hospital for hours!”

“I want to be here, Burt, please let me,” Sebastian pleaded. “I won’t sleep if I leave.”

“And you think I will?” Burt countered.

Sebastian sighed and looked down at where his hand was joined with Kurt’s. The thought of extricating it was unbearable.

“You know how pissed Kurt’ll be when he finds out you stayed,” said Sebastian, his last appeal to Burt’s resolve. “And he’ll be pissed at me for letting you.”

“He’ll have to suck it up.”

It was now that Sebastian gave Burt a real look for the first time since he’d arrived. Previously, he’d been so concerned with Kurt that he hadn’t given his father much more than a cursory glance, but now that he did he saw the sadness that seemed to be carved into his features. His eyes were bloodshot and underlined by dark circles. Across his face were wrinkles that seemed more pronounced than ever. In fact, he’d never looked older.

He looked back at Sebastian with equal fierceness, neither ready to back down. Maybe he saw something in Sebastian’s expression, though, because his lower lip trembled briefly, just long enough for Sebastian to catch it.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed, looking away and covering his mouth with his hand. “Fuck.”

Sebastian was mute, at a loss for words once again. He averted his eyes and gave Burt time to compose himself, keeping his gaze focused on Kurt’s hand, red-knuckled and war-bruised, instead. Finally, Burt gathered his thoughts enough to talk, and Sebastian returned his attention to him.

“I just—” He broke off for a moment, then collected himself again. “I just hate that these people exist and that they want to hurt you. You’ve done nothing, you hurt nobody, you don’t deserve to feel hunted in your own goddamn city. Jesus, you both look so young, you shouldn’t be dealing with this shit.”

Sebastian’s eyes pricked, for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, but stayed silent because Burt didn’t seem finished.

“You love Kurt, so I don’t need to tell you how wonderful he is. We agree, you know? That if even a hair on his head gets hurt it’s an injustice. You remember some of the Karofsky thing—” Sebastian flinched but Burt didn’t seem to register it. “—and I’m sure Kurt’s told you the rest, but you have to understand… From my perspective? God, I could have killed him. I thought about it. I thought some dark shit, I thought about following him home from school. Catchin’ him when he was alone. I had a plan, you know? A real one. I feel that way now, like no punishment could be bad enough for these guys.”

It was true. At least it seemed that way to Sebastian in the moment. No punishment would fit the crime of this, not to him. It would never be enough.

It was surprising, but not necessarily ill-fitting, that Burt had felt so strongly about Karofsky. There was a reason Sebastian was slightly terrified of him, it was because he could tell that his protectiveness of Kurt knew no bounds. Of course he had wanted to kill Dave.

Did it do anything to ease Sebastian’s conscience? That he had never done anything to Kurt that was quite so bad as to invoke Burt’s wrath? Sure, he’d been a total dick, but he’d never gone quite that far.

‘Undeserving’. That had been what Sebastian called himself. Perhaps he was more deserving than Dave. Maybe that was kind of a low bar.

Surely Dave’s actions didn’t excuse Sebastian’s awfulness towards him, though. Surely. Sebastian didn’t know enough about morality to know how that one worked out. Dave hadn’t threatened to kill Sebastian, and Sebastian had been awful to him without knowing who he was, so those two events surely had nothing to do with each other.

Or maybe, one awful person being mean to a slightly more awful person equated to very little on their individual ‘goodness’ tallies.

Fuck, who knew? Sebastian was fucking exhausted, and Kurt knew way more about this shit than he did. His mind was a total mess, and Burt was still awaiting an answer to his speech.

“The world is unfair,” Sebastian said. “This whole fucking thing is unfair, I don’t understand any of it. All I’ve been able to think since I heard about Russ is that none of this makes any sense, and that I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian,” said Burt. “You shouldn’t have to live with that.”

Sebastian’s face crumpled and he averted his gaze again to Kurt’s hand, a safe place for his eyes to land. He didn’t know how to voice what he was thinking, which was that, between the two of them, Kurt and Sebastian, Sebastian should have been lying in the hospital bed. If the world operated on a system of good and evil, reward and punishment, he deserved the pain more than Kurt did. Incalculably more.

Saying that sort of thing out loud felt like admitting to his moral failings, which he was too much of a coward to do.

It was also the sort of thing that made people worry about a person’s mental state, and that was unnecessary. Sebastian was a greedy, selfish son of a bitch who didn’t care if he ‘deserved’ what he got, he just enjoyed what he had. The fact that he was suddenly growing a conscience wasn’t enough to change that. In a few weeks, once Kurt was recovered, he would happily let himself be distracted by his fun New York life and fun New York boyfriend and he’d hold Kurt tightly to him and growl at anyone who tried to come near him and he wouldn’t give a second thought to what he or anyone else deserved, except Kurt. Because he only deserved good things, and Sebastian would give them to him for as long as Kurt let him.

“Go home to the loft tonight, kid,” said Burt. “Sleep in Kurt’s bed, keep Rachel company. Rest. You deserve it.”

“Burt, I—”

“Sebastian,” said Burt firmly, shutting Sebastian up. “You’ll be with him while he recovers, you get more of him these days than I do, let me have this. Let me be here with my son.”

Sebastian gnawed on his cheek. “‘You sure you’ll be okay? I mean, with your back and everything?”

“Yeah, you kids worry too much,” said Burt. “My back will be fine, and if it’s not, then I’ll deal with it. Go home.”

It was torture to even consider pulling away from Kurt, but the thought of a warm bed that smelled of Kurt was tempting, too tempting. He wanted to sleep, damnit.

“I promised him that I’d be here when he woke up,” said Sebastian weakly.

Burt sighed. “He won’t remember that. And he won’t hold it against you if he does. You’ll be here tomorrow anyway, he won’t be missing you for long.”

One final look at Kurt’s beautiful, scarred face. Angelic and blank in sleep, completely unaware of the horrible shit that had been inflicted on him. He wouldn’t miss Sebastian too much, and Sebastian would come back. He always would.

“Okay,” he agreed, and Burt seemed to deflate in relief.

An hour later, Sebastian was in a cab, pulling up outside Kurt’s apartment in Bushwick. He clambered up the stairs, used his spare key to let him in, and then, finally, curled up in Kurt’s bed. The sheets smelled just like him, and felt familiar. They felt like lazy Sunday mornings and late weeknights spent workshopping their projects together. And they felt like Kurt. They were lonely without him, but, with any luck, they wouldn’t be empty for long.

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The next day, Sebastian returned. He slept for a fitful five hours before he couldn’t take the distance anymore, and called a cab to take him to the hospital.

On arrival, he was pleased to see that Burt was in the cot next to Kurt, and that he hadn’t been kicked out of it, and that Kurt was awake, but apparently chipper.

“Hey,” he greeted, far more lucid than he had been when Sebastian last spoke to him.

Sebastian smiled with relief that his boyfriend was back. He’d enjoyed anaesthesia Kurt, but he liked sober Kurt far more.

“Hi, baby. How’d you sleep?” Sebastian asked, pulling up the chair to sit by Kurt’s side. Immediately, Kurt’s bruised hand reached out, and Sebastian took it, holding it gently.

“It doesn’t feel like sleeping,” said Kurt. “It feels like… I don’t know, scene breaks. One minute I’m here, the next I’m five hours in the future. How did you sleep? I guess my dad sent you home?”

“He did, we argued about it but he won me over,” said Sebastian. “I’m sorry, I told him you’d be worried about his back.”

Kurt’s nose scrunched playfully. “Eh. If I can handle getting beaten to a pulp, I think he can handle a bad back. Though I wish you’d both gotten a decent night’s sleep.”

“He said I could stay here tonight if they let me,” said Sebastian. “I was thinking I’d get him a nice hotel.”

“You won’t get him anything,” Kurt sighed, smiling ruefully. “He can stay at the loft, or he can get his own hotel room.”

Conceding, Sebastian shrugged. He wouldn’t be able to fight Kurt on this.

“But, seriously, how did you sleep?” Kurt asked again. “No offense, but you look like shit.”

Sebastian thought that was probably true. He hadn’t showered or anything since yesterday morning, which probably wouldn’t matter so much if he’d slept (which he hadn’t really) or if he hadn’t spent hours in a sweaty darkroom and a gross hospital in the interim. He hadn’t touched his hair, or looked in the mirror for very long. He’d changed his clothes with the spare set Nick had packed him, brushed his teeth, slathered on deodorant, and eaten a slice of toast before he’d left the loft. That was it. He hadn’t even put in contacts, he was still in his glasses.

Still, though.

“That makes two of us,” Sebastian pointed out. But he was lying. Kurt looked like an angel, still, even with all the cuts on his face. For as long as Sebastian had known him, even in the early days, Kurt had never looked like shit.

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. “I have an excuse.”

“So do I,” said Sebastian. “I slept badly, if you must know. I’m worried about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be,” said Kurt. “The injuries are minor, I’m not in any danger, and it’s not like anyone’s gonna gay-bash me in a hospital.”

Sebastian winced. “Too soon to joke about it.”

Kurt laughed but fixed Sebastian with a more serious look that said that he understood the gravity of the situation. He was only making jokes because he didn’t know what else to do. It was that listlessness that prompted Sebastian into action.

“Talk to me,” Sebastian pleaded. “One minute I’m walking home to meet you, the next I’m getting a call that you’re in the hospital.”

“I don’t have much to say,” said Kurt, squeezing Sebastian’s fingers. “Not yet, anyway. Maybe it’ll come to me. Right now I just feel… Tired. But not, like, just because of last night.”

“What are you tired of?”

Kurt sighed and shied his eyes away from Sebastian’s face. They flicked down to their joined hands. “I’ve been fighting these guys for so long. In some way or another. It didn’t even start with Karofsky, people were dicks in middle school, even elementary sometimes. It feels like I’ve spent my whole life with enemies, just by virtue of who I am. I’m used to feeling unsafe pretty much everywhere I go, but… Well, I guess it was naive of me, Dad felt the same way. We thought that New York would be safer. And it’s not.

“But I still love it. I don’t want to go anywhere, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running away, they won’t chase me out of the city I love. They’re not gonna stop me from loving who I love, and being who I am, they’ll have to kill me.”

His conviction. The way he spoke. Like a hero, a true, honest-to-God hero. Sebastian was in awe of it.

“So, yeah, I’m freaked out,” Kurt continued. “I’m rattled. I feel scared.”

It was subtle, but Sebastian caught it: Kurt’s lower lip trembled, and his voice caught on ‘scared’. Immediately, Sebastian was reaching across, yanking Kurt into a hug. Kurt melted into it, burying his face in Sebastian’s shoulder, which started to feel damp after only a few seconds.

“I’m scared,” Kurt admitted shakily, his voice muffled by Sebastian’s shoulder. “I want to be brave but I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” said Sebastian, willing his voice to be strong for both of them. “You’re brave. You’re so brave. If you decide that you can’t do it and that you want to move away, you won’t be any less brave to me, but if you want to stay, you’re brave enough to do it. If anyone can, it’s you.”

“I’m not any more brave than Russ,” said Kurt. “Or the guy I ‘saved’. Or you.”

That made Sebastian tense for just a moment, but Kurt caught it. He pulled back and Sebastian sat down, jaw clenched.

“You’re not okay either,” Kurt stated, like it was obvious.

Sebastian gave a wet laugh. “Of course I’m not. I’m terrified of what could have happened to you.”

“But it didn’t happen to me,” said Kurt. “And you weren’t okay before, I remember. I was going to push you about it when we got home. You were all freaked because you’d done too much thinking.”

“That—”

“It was something, I could hear it in your voice,” said Kurt, soft as anything. “What’s going on?”

“Now isn’t the time. We can talk about it later,” said Sebastian.

“No, I want to talk about it now,” Kurt insisted. His jaw was set, and he wasn’t going to budge on this. “Please.”

Sebastian’s nostrils flared and he looked anywhere but at Kurt’s face. “I— I don’t know what to say, I’m not doing great. Obviously, none of us are. Since finding out about Russ I’ve been kind of all over the place.”

“All over the place, how?”

Everything in Sebastian’s body was transparent, except his heart. To Kurt, at least, Sebastian would always be laid bare. There was nothing he could do to stop the tide of his words, not when he was so tired, and so sad, and so weighed down by it all. He wanted to be stoic, and hold it all in, but he was selfish and he took what he got, even if that was comfort he didn’t deserve from a man who had been through hell.

He took a deep, shaky breath.

“I’ve been… I don’t know. Thinking, I guess. I feel a little… guilty.”

“Guilty about what?” Kurt asked.

Sebastian shrugged. “Everything I’ve ever done. What I did to you. What I did to Dave. How I used to act. Even what I did to Blaine, which I never thought I’d say. When I look back on it, instead of just ignoring it like I normally do, it becomes really obvious to me that I’m… not a good person. Like, at all. At least not good enough for all of the wonderful things I have. Like you.”

“Like me?” Kurt asked, voice a whisper.

“Yeah,” said Sebastian. “You’re so… I’m so…” He coughed to cover up the intense wave of emotion that was straining his voice. “I’m so in love with you and, somehow, you love me back, and that’s so rare. And so few people get to have that, but I do, and I don’t deserve it. And you’re so good compared to me, you’re kind, and honest, and brave, and all of the things I’m not, and you’re being punished for it. It all just feels completely wrong. This isn’t the way it should be, I should be the one in the hospital bed, I shouldn’t be the one who gets to sit by your side, it’s unfair. It’s so unfair.”

He covered his face with his free hand to scrub away the tears that had fallen, and to hide himself away from Kurt’s piercing gaze. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but Kurt held his other hand tightly, stroking circles across the back with his thumb. It brought Sebastian back down to Earth slowly.

However, the silence stretched for long enough that Sebastian began to worry. The demon in his brain, the one that was sure that his life was all some cruel-but-deserving prank, spoke to him and told him that this was the end. He’d bared his soul to Kurt, and Kurt hadn’t liked what he’d seen, and now it was over.

But, when Kurt did eventually speak, that wasn’t what it sounded like. He was a little mad though.

“That’s such crap, Sebastian,” he said.

The ‘Sebastian’ was what scared him, because Kurt rarely called him by his actual name. It was always ‘‘Bas’ or ‘baby’ or ‘babe’. It was only ever ‘Sebastian’ when he was deathly serious about something, which it seemed that he was now, so Sebastian lowered his hand and studied Kurt’s face. He was sitting up from his pillows and glaring at him.

“How little do you think of me?” he demanded.

Sebastian blanched. “I just told you how much I’m in love with you, what are you talking about?”

“You think I’m capable of being in love with someone who’s evil? And horrible? And beyond redemption?” Kurt continued, tone still harsh and cutting. “Either you think that I’m the kind of person who can look past horrible shit for love, which I sincerely hope I’m not, or you think I’m an idiot who has been completely duped by you and your evil scheming ways, and I don’t like either of those versions of me.”

“I don’t think that—”

“Well, then explain to me how it is that I’m in love with you,” Kurt demanded. “If you’re so awful.”

“I—” Sebastian stammered. “You— I don’t know! It’s a mystery to me, that’s the problem!”

“Then you need to listen to me,” Kurt implored. He took both of Sebastian’s hands in his own now, clasping them tightly. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not blind. And I’m not someone who can fall in love with bad people. I fell in love with a good person. One of the best people I know, actually—”

“Come on—”

“I mean it,” Kurt insisted, blinking hard against the tears welling up in his eyes. “This—” He gestured between the two of them. “—didn’t happen overnight. I didn’t love you from the moment I met you, because back then you were a different person to who you are now, but who you are now is my favourite person. You’re kind to my friends, even when they don’t deserve it, you argue with my dad because you’re worried about his back pain, you spend all night at the hospital, even when I’m asleep and wouldn’t know if you weren’t there. You care about Russ and the people who live near us, not just because it makes you scared for yourself or for me, but because it matters to you that everyone is safe in this city. You give a shit ton of money to charity, partly because you want to impress me, but also because it makes you feel good to do it, and I know that because I catch you doing it when I’m not supposed to see. And because I know you. I’ve known you for a long time now, and for you to act like somehow you tricked me into being in love with you and hid all your flaws from me is, frankly, giving yourself too much credit, because I know your flaws very, very well. And I love them. I love all of you.”

By the end of Kurt’s speech, tears were freely falling down Sebastian’s face, and he couldn’t extricate his hands from Kurt’s hold to wipe them, so he just let them go, jaw trembling with emotion. How did Kurt always know exactly what to say? How did he speak to all of Sebastian’s demons, like he knew what was going on in his brain?

“I wish I could believe you,” said Sebastian, because it was true. Kurt’s words were perfect, and beautiful, and exactly what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t believe them. Somewhere, deep inside him, was a vicious monster that, surely, Kurt couldn’t love. Surely, nobody could.

“I’ll keep repeating it until you do,” said Kurt, his conviction beautiful and unwavering. There was nothing Sebastian could do in the face of that. If Kurt was determined to love him, there was nothing he could do but let him, and try to believe him when he said he deserved it.

Sebastian sniffed and shook his head. “You shouldn’t be comforting me,” he said, laughing dryly. “You’ve been through hell.”

“It sounds like you’ve been going through a hell of your own,” said Kurt.

It was so unfair for Kurt to be so kind as to think so. Sebastian was the luckiest fucker alive.

“Come up here,” Kurt whispered, and Sebastian joined him on the bed, letting Kurt rest his head on his shoulder. It was a tight squeeze, but they managed, and it was a million miles better than lying in a Kurt-scented bed with no Kurt in it.

“I love you so much,” Sebastian whispered, pressing a kiss into Kurt’s head.

Kurt stroked his chest. “I love you too. You have no idea.”

They would have another thirty minutes until Burt woke up, and both of them spent it exchanging soft words and dipping in and out of consciousness. By the time there was a stirring from the other bed, everything felt a little less sharp, and a little easier to handle. Sebastian could joke with Burt about how they both looked like shit while Kurt, somehow, looked like a fallen angel despite having gone through what he had. He could order breakfast burritos and eat them with something like a smile on his face as he and Burt told Kurt about the funny things he’d said under anaesthesia. And he could pretend that he felt totally deserving of the love he was surrounded by, at least for now.

. ݁₊ ⊹ 🏙 . ݁˖ . ݁

Weeks later, Kurt had returned to the loft, and it wasn’t much of an exaggeration to say that Sebastian hadn’t budged from his side.

Barring a few obvious exceptions, and the odd unavoidable lecture here and there, Sebastian had been a limpet on Kurt’s side, completely attached to his hip. Kurt, for his part, didn’t seem to mind so much. In fact, he seemed to be just as hungry for the closeness as Sebastian was.

Though he put up a stoic front for everyone else, insisting that the experience was just a little jarring and that he was, ultimately, fine, behind closed doors he let Sebastian see the truth. The truth being that he still hadn’t been able to leave the house without company, and that he spooked at loud noises even worse than he’d been doing before, and that he wasn’t sleeping well and was going to the doctor for heavy sleep aids to stave off the nightmares. That sometimes, in the dead of night, the sleep aids wouldn’t be enough, and he’d shake all over from fear and seek out Sebastian’s body to hold him tightly until the feeling subsided. The truth that, most of the time, the feeling didn’t subside. It stayed with him constantly, and he worried sometimes that it would never go away.

Sebastian wanted him to try therapy, and Kurt was open to the idea, if reluctant. He conceded that he was finding it harder to readjust than he’d thought he would, and that a professional would probably help, but also resisted because, in his words, he’d ‘gotten this far without one’.

Of course, Sebastian didn’t have a leg to stand on, point-blank refusing to try therapy for himself. He didn’t need it, he hadn’t gone through what Kurt had gone through, it was a completely different situation. Kurt said that he worried that Sebastian was resisting because he didn’t think he deserved the sympathy a therapist would give him, but Sebastian thought that was crap. He didn’t ‘think’ he didn’t deserve sympathy, he knew he didn’t deserve sympathy. Very different things.

Still, he was coping pretty well, he thought. Being useful to Kurt in his time of need was a balm. For Sebastian, it felt like the more he showed Kurt how much he loved him, the more he made him feel loved, the more he made him feel supported, the closer to ‘deserving’ Sebastian got. It was basic math, and the math was working.

He felt closer to ‘good’ every passing day. One of these days, he’d probably even feel ‘great’ again. The closest he’d felt to it, since Russ, happened on a random Wednesday night at the loft. Sebastian was in the kitchen making dinner, and Kurt was in the living area on the couch, on the phone with Sebastian’s dad and younger brother.

“I’m fine!” Kurt insisted laughingly, after the fiftieth time Oscar, Sebastian’s dad, asked.

“I’m just checking,” said Oscar. “You know, you really shouldn’t live in Bushwick anymore, Kurt, it’s just not safe.”

“They’re catching the guys who did it,” said Kurt. “They brought one of them into the station yesterday. I’m not writing the whole place off because of one group of bad guys, I love it too much.”

“If you love it so much, you can visit on the weekends, but I think we’d all feel much better if you were up in the East Village with Seb,” said Oscar. Sebastian was reminded of a thought he’d had, way before Russ had even been attacked, that he wanted Kurt to move in with him someday soon. It seemed that his dad was on the same page, but now wasn’t the time to be talking about it. “I’m sure your dad would be much happier.”

“I’m not running away,” Kurt repeated. “This is my home, I’m not going anywhere unless I want to.”

Oscar huffed. “Fine. Suit yourself.” It seemed like he was relenting, but the look Kurt and Sebastian exchanged said that they both knew the conversation would be brought up again, probably very soon.

It was when the conversation shifted to Kurt’s Midwinter Critique that Sebastian truly relaxed. Kurt explained his song choice and how he’d been practicing, but trying to keep the performance as authentic and unplugged as possible while still being fun and lighthearted. He explained how he wanted it to be optimistic in tone, because people probably expected him to do something miserable.

Sebastian chipped in there with a comment about Blaine’s solemn number, and Kurt gave him a fondly disapproving look. Dinner was finished then, so Kurt signed off with Oscar and Archie and came to the table. He ‘ooh’-ed and ‘ahh’-ed over how nice it looked and they sat down to eat together.

It was comfortable. It was nice. It was almost normal.

Without the scars that still marred Kurt’s face, Sebastian would almost be inclined to believe that none of it had happened. That, maybe, they could go back to something close to normal. God, he hoped so.

The Friday of that week was when Kurt had his Midwinter Critique. He killed it, as expected, and Sebastian watched from the audience with Burt, grinning so widely with pride that his cheeks hurt.

When Kurt finished, Burt and Sebastian rushed over to help him off the piano. Kurt was surrounded by people, but Sebastian was the one he focused on, kissing him proudly in front of everyone. He meant it as a statement, partially. A ‘fuck you’ to the people who had put him in a position where he had to perform weeks after his classmates, with scars on his face. But he also meant it as just a gesture of love. He knew what Sebastian was feeling, even if he didn’t always admit to it, and he knew that he couldn’t fix it, so he was showing him, in front of everyone he knew, just how untrue all of his evil thoughts were. One day, Sebastian hoped, he would believe him for longer than just a brief, happy, not-alone moment. But, right now, the happy, not-alone moments were the best he had, so he would take them, and try to make them last as long as possible.

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