[CLOSED] "Some say love it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed."

[rockstarwarbler]

Who: Blaine Hummel-Anderson, Noah Puckerman and eventually Mike Chang
Where: The Beach, further along from the main strip
Time of Day: Around 5pm
Open or Closed: Closed for now

It was the happiest day of Blaine's life.

Bar none. There wasn't a single time in his life he could remember ever feeling this ecstatic, and he couldn't stop smiling. His faced ached, because a smile had been stuck on his face ever since he woke up that morning and he had been bouncing off the walls ever since. Kurt Hummel was his husband, and there wasn't a thing that could make life more perfect, as far as Blaine was concerned. The wedding had been beautiful. Absolute perfection. Kurt wouldn't have settled for anything less. Walden in Aurora was the only venue Kurt would consider in Ohio, and it had been booked for over a year for their special day of August 8th. Kurt had been in his element arranging that wedding. He did it all, right down to designing their suits, the invitations, and made every single wedding favour himself. They had stayed the few days before the wedding at the Walden Inn, just relaxing together and enjoying everything about the fact they were about to get married. Kurt had it all planned like a military operation, so that late in the proceedings, there had been nothing left to do but chill and enjoy every single last moment of it.

Of course, they hadn't spent the night before their wedding together. Blaine shared a room with his Best Man, Puck, and Kurt shared another with Quinn, Mercedes, Santana, Tina, and Rachel... a sleepover reminiscent of their many back in high school with lots of giggling and squealing over the fact Kurt was finally going to marry Blaine, the love of his life, and things couldn't be more perfect. There had been lots of cuddles and happy tears, and teasing Kurt about his upcoming wedding night. It had probably been the best sleepover they ever had, and everyone went into the wedding day on cloud nine, more than ready to see their two favourite gay guys tie the knot. That morning, Kurt and Blaine got up extremely early and took the first flight out of Ohio to New York City. They legally got married at a quickie ceremony at City Hall, and were on the next plane back to Ohio for their family ceremony and reception in Ohio surrounded by family and friends. There was no other way they wanted to do it, and the timing of it all had gone off without a single hitch.

The entire day and into the evening was the epitome of wedding perfection. The grooms were so happily wrapped up in each other, and it was obvious that as they shared their first dance, no one else but each other existed in that room. But it had been Blaine's speech that had every single guest in the room in tears. He spoke about how Kurt changed his life, made him remember how to breathe and feel the warmth of the sun all over again when he was so sure he would spend the rest of his life hiding fearfully in dark corners trying to catch his breath in a world that always seemed so full of demons. That every morning he woke up with Kurt, he knew the world was a better place just because Kurt Hummel existed in it. That day, right there, was the start of their whole lives together and that he would continue to wake up every morning and thank any higher power that was listening for putting Kurt in his path that day on the spiral staircase at Dalton, and that no matter what happened, for better or for worse, they would fight it hand-in-hand together.

And now they were gathering out on the front lawn of the venue, waiting for the streth limos to arrive and drive them to the airport. They were staying at the hotel there, and would fly out for their honeymoon in Europe, staring with Paris, first thing in the morning. Kurt had just fabulously and dramatically thrown his bouquet into the sea of all his fag hags, and everyone was laughing when Rachel and Santana nearly got into a wrestling match trying to grab it, with Santana coming up trumps with a well placed nudge of Rachel ribs. It was every fag for herself at that moment. Blaine broke away from where he had been standing with Puck and the rest of his groomsmen (he had needed to gather a guy for every hag Kurt wanted for his bridesmaids) and raced up to Kurt. He wrapped his arms around his knew husband, his years of boxing training meaning it was an easy action, and spun him around with a grin. "I love you, Kurt Hummel-Anderson!" he declared loudly. Once they stopped spinning and he set Kurt back on his feet, he captured Kurt's lips in a deep and passionate kiss, right there in front of everyone. When they broke apart, they were laughing and Kurt had stumbled back a little, swept off his feet to shoot his dad and Carole a bright grin.

It all happened so quickly. Too quickly. No one could ever have seen it coming. No one could ever have predicted it. There was a screech of tyres on the drive a short distance away and three sharp gunshots echoed through the air in the wake. There was screams, and people tried to dive down in reflex of the horrible sudden noise. At first, no one even knew what happened. There was these horrible handful of seconds that seemed to tick by in stifled, silent slow motion before a sound more horrible than the gunshots themselves rang through the air.

Blaine's scream.

It was terrified, it was pleading, and it was followed by an awful begging wail of Kurt's name. He dropped down to his knees on the grass, his arms viced around his new husband who crumped in a broken mess against him. Kurt and Blaine's matching pearlescent suits were splattered and soaked in bright red blood. Kurt was unconscious, head slumped against Blaine's chest as Blaine clawed at Kurt's waistcoat trying to get it off him as he screamed and begged at Kurt to wake up. At least, that was how it started. It went from feeling like it was in slow motion to feeling like the fast-forward button had been hit. Someone was shouting to check Kurt's pulse and call 911, and Burt fell to his knees beside his bleeding son and his blood-soaked son-in-law to check for Kurt's pulse and breathing. People were screaming around them, and whoever had done this had peeled out of the parking lot as soon as they had entered it.

There was no pulse, there was no breath. There was no hope of the paramedics getting there for at least a few minutes. "NO! KURT! NO, DON'T YOU DIE! DON'T YOU LEAVE ME! WAKE UP, KURT! PLEASE, PLEASE, BABY! PLEASE WAKE UP! KURT!" Blaine screamed, the begging getting more loud and through his choked up panic as he shook Kurt in his arms. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as Burt tried to battle Kurt's broken form from Blaine's arms but Blaine had a vice-like hold around Kurt's slender and bleeding body as he horrifically through his distressed screams and pleading.

"He's gone... he's gone," was all Carole could get out after trying to resuscitate Kurt in Blaine's arms the best should could without response.

There was a crushed and distraught cry from her husband, who knelt there gaping at his son's body in horror. But all Blaine could do was was shake his head, gripping onto Kurt even tighter, with a grip that actually fractured one of Kurt's ribs, and over and over again, begged Kurt not to die and not leave him, to wake up, to stop scaring him and stop joking. Blaine's hands and arms were soaked and smeared in Kurt's blood and his wedding suit was slicked up against his body from it.

And then he felt forward heavily. His blood sodden hands falling into hot sand that his elbows soon hit too when his arms went from being engulfed with his husband to emptiness. A horrible, sickening bolt of fear shot through Blaine and he screamed in terror, looking around to try and see who taken Kurt away from him. Where was Burt? Carole? Puck? What had they done with Kurt?! "KURT! KURT! SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE! HE NEEDS AN AMBULANCE! PLEASE! HE'S HURT! KURT! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" he screamed, his terrified shouts ringing out across the beach to be heard as far as the resort and beyond.

Comments

[alloriginalgradeabadass]

Puck's heart was racing to the point that he was fairly certain it had a good shot at leaping right out of his chest. This wasn't what he'd wanted. He did want Blaine here, more than anything. But not like this... Not... Not after seeing Kurt murdered, and still freaking out and beyond consolation.

When Blaine freaked out and tried to fight Chris, Puck had immediately tried to hold Blaine back, but before he'd even had a chance to get off the floor, the doctor was restraining Blaine, and Puck let an irrational, pained cry of, "Don't hurt him!" out before he'd even thought about it. Blaine honestly was in so much shock it was doubtful that he even felt it, but Puck had always slotted himself automatically into doing whatever it took to protect and care for Blaine, and even after all these years, that fact still remained. He managed to keep himself from trying to push Chris off Blaine, because deep down, Puck did know that this was necessary. Blaine needed a chance to sleep off the shock and terror that was coursing through his veins right now, no matter what that took.

And once Chris was gone, Puck was gently carrying Blaine into his room, cutting through to the en suite so that he could peel Blaine out of the clothing that was covered in Kurt's blood, and Blaine's vomit and urine where it would be easy to dispose of. He nursed Blaine's sleeping form, all but dead weight, close to him, getting Mike to help him get the clothes off. Fuck, but this was hard to do, especially when Puck could barely see through the tears in his eyes. Once Blaine was undressed and cleaned up, as much as was possible at least, Puck carried him into the bedroom and gently laid him in the bed while Mike brought in some of his pajamas. Puck's stuff would be nearly twice Blaine's size, and Mike's things were far closer, if still very long. The pair of them dressed Blaine as well as they could before Puck tucked the blanket around his best friend's sleeping form. "I'm sorry..." he said softly to Blaine. "I'm sorry we don't have any Buzz PJs, dude. I know they're your favorite."

Maybe it was a stupid thing to say, and in the grand scheme, Blaine really wasn't going to be concerned with his pajamas, but Puck knew that the world owed Blaine about a million apologies, and if nothing else, he could start with that.

[justwants2dance]

"Dude, his stuff. He's here, his stuff should have come," Mike said, referring to the handful of items from home every person seemed to have for them when they got here. He went out into the main area of their bungalow and started to look around, not surprised in he slightest when he found Blaine's leather letterman bag by their door that he used to have back in school. He picked it up and brought it back through while Puck continued to sit by Blaine on the bed, watching him so closely like he was expecting him to disappear again. Puck's posture was stiff and stressed. He was still trying to keep it together.

He set the bag down beside Puck and opened it up to see what Blaine had drawn with him. First thing he pulled out was the little stuffed Labrador Kurt had given Blaine in senior year. It was affectionately referred to as Margaret Thatcher dog, but Blaine had called it Dalton and now had a little bowtie of its own with bones on it. Mike gave a small, sad sigh as he gave the toy a soft squeeze and handed it to Puck for Blaine. An old, antique pocket watch was next, which must have been the one Blaine had the day Kurt met him. Mike remembered Kurt going on about how classy and hot it had been. "Dude," he said with a small laugh and tugged Blaine's infamous and well-loved pyjamas from the bag and tossed them at Puck too.

Next to come out was an item they all knew. Kurt's LIKES BOYS t-shirt. Fucking hell, how had Kurt survived two years without Blaine? It suddenly seemed like the most surreal occurrence to have happened. They were meant to be together. Two out of five of Blaine's items were already Kurt related. The final thing was a scrapbook and Mike sat down on the bed too to open it up, and he found it was a homage to Kurt and Blaine's entire relationship right up to their wedding way and starting with a picture of the spiral staircase at Dalton. There was numerous photos in there of the couple, little piece of memorabilia from their time together, even some pages of letters they wrote to each other during their brief break-up. Mike started to tear up, so he just close the book over and put it aside, glad that was one thing Blaine had brought with him. he gave Puck a companionable pat on the back. "You doing okay, dude?"

[alloriginalgradeabadass]

Puck nodded quietly to Mike before he disappeared into the living area while Puck stayed close to Blaine, wishing like fuck he could just wave a wand and fix all of this. Knowing that Blaine was suffering because in his world, Kurt was dead, while Puck knew full well that a very much alive version of Kurt, dumping that knowledge on Blaine wouldn't help anything right now. This whole thing was fucking killing him, and no matter what he did, he couldn't make sense of how to deal with it.

When Mike returned with the bag of Blaine's things, Puck looked at them numbly. But even he had to crack a smile when the Buzz jammies made their appearance. Puck had never understood how those fucking PJs lasted through all the years and washes they went through. But they had still been around when Puck showed up on the island, against all odds. "Well... That fixes that problem," he managed, his hand squeezing Blaine's arm before he shifted it to tuck Dalton into the crook of Blaine's elbow.

From where he was sitting, Puck could see the scrapbook as Mike went through it, but it only took a second or two of that before he had to look away to keep from sobbing like a baby. With a hard swallow against the lump in his throat, he looked at Mike. "N... No, man. I'm not... Not okay at all. I saw this once in my life before... I never wanted to go through it again. I wanted him here, man... Of course I did, but not like this. Not... Not like this at all." Puck wondered in that moment whether he'd been selfish in wanting Blaine to come here. But then, on the other hand, back in the real world, he was going to die... Maybe here, at least, that wouldn't happen. Maybe he'd be okay. Maybe when he and Kurt found each other, both still alive, and safe, if broken, they'd find their way through it all. "I'm scared for him, Mike."

[justwants2dance]

"Dude," Mike began quietly, frowning in concern as he watched Blaine there in the mound of covered completely out of it. At least he was clean and warm, Puck following Chris' advice to keep Blaine as warm as he could for a little while to help with the shock. The oxygen mask was still on and doing its thing, and the IV line running into Blaine's arm. It was actually a sheer miracle that Blaine's adrenaline at the time of Kurt's death had kicked in like it did because he usually had a phobia to blood and needles. But the shock at that point had pretty much taken over everything. No one would ever forget Blaine's screams that night, or the sound of the gunshots in the air. "It's probably better he came from that point than a year... two... five down the track on it. If what 'Cedes said was true, Blaine never got over this and his heart and brain never healed from trauma. If we got him too far beyond this, he wouldn't be the Blaine we all love anyway. This way, once he gets over this initial terror, we can get him to Kurt and hopefully roadblock all those horrible things that happened back home after Kurt died."

He was just folding Blaine's bag closed again when he realised here was something else inside. "We need to try and figure out the logistics though, dude. Personally, I would give nothing more than to run up the beach right now and get Kurt from his bungalow to bring him here. But I think that's going to short-circuit Blaine's brain even more. If we wait until he rests and he at least physically calms down, I think he'll be better off. The first thing he'll probably do when he wakes up is ask for Kurt. That's how we can begin to explain to him that Kurt is okay and maybe get a little of the island functioning into his head."

He took the last item out of the bag and held it up. "Dude, it's a McKinley letterman jacket. Blaine never had a letterman," he said with a frown and then realised it was about three sizes too big for Blaine. He turned it over and there was a makeshift patch of fabric sewn loosely to the back with 'BLAINE'S BEST MAN' written in Sharpee on it and then in smaller letters like it was added later underneath 'AND BFF'. With a blink, Mike held it up for Puck to see. "Dude, he brought your letterman jacket..."

[alloriginalgradeabadass]

"Yeah," Puck replied. The only other person on the island who'd seen through what Blaine had been through after Kurt died was Mercedes, and she had seen it through to the very in. Puck could only speak for two years after the loss of Kurt, and that alone was more than enough. That person... The person who'd told Puck to go back to his own life and move on without him? That person wasn't the Blaine that Puck knew and loved more than life itself. That person was lifeless, with nothing left in his heart to live for, and Puck had known even then that, unless something drastic changed, Blaine wouldn't make it much longer. "It kills me knowing what he just saw, dude. It was sickening. It cost us all everything in the real world. Everything."

"Chris is gonna keep him out for a day, right?" Puck asked. "Isn't that what he said? So when he comes to, he'll at least have rested somewhat, and slept the physical shock thing off?" He pondered Mike's idea silently for a moment before he gave a nod of agreement. "That's probably the best we can do. It's gonna be hard for him to swallow either way, but at least if he's not in mid-panic, we might be able to get through to him."

Puck watched in confusion as Mike pulled out the jacket, and as he turned it so they could see the back, Puck just stared in shocked silence for a moment. Blaine had taken it upon himself to "decorate" Puck's jacket the night of his bachelor party. They'd had drinks, and spent hours shooting the shit and just hanging out and enjoying being together, the whole group of guys, while Puck proudly wore the jacket, complete with the patch on the back. At least until Blaine had gotten cold, and given Puck The Infamous Blainers Eyes, thereby commandeering said jacket for the rest of the night. Reaching out carefully, Puck let his fingers wrap around the fabric, the familiar heaviness of it comforting in his hand... Until he completely lost control and broke down in sobs that literally shook his whole body.

[justwants2dance]

Mike nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip. "He said twelve hours, then he'll check on him and probably keep him out for another twelve. He knows all the history there because he was the dude who got the bullets out of Kurt when he got here and saved his life. So, he's got an idea of the shock Blaine would have witnessed. I mean, I know I wasn't there... not this me, but it must have been seriously fucked up to watch someone shoot Kurt, and then him die right there. I've never, ever been able to wrap my head around it. I've tried, but it's impossible. But then to stop and think about it from Blaine's point of view..." He trailed off for a moment, looking sadly at Blaine. "How does some go through watching their husband murdered right in front of you? Die your arms? Blaine's here in a better place now, where Kurt is here and alive and well. We just need to get B over this initial headfuck terror moment and then we can help him."

Then Puck was breaking down. Devastatingly so, and Mike wasn't shocked by it at all. He just put his arm around his old friend and patted his back comfortingly, knowing Puck had witnessed right directly in front of him Kurt being murdered and dying. Knowing how much it would have destroyed his best friend. Even if Kurt and Blaine were both here not and had a fresh start, it still didn't immediately erase the trauma and pain everyone had gone through with it. They had to deal with that too. "We'll take good care of him, dude. The best we can. You can protect him all over again here now, and we'll make sure he has whatever he needs to get through this. Then, as soon as he can, we can get Kurt to him. Just think on that, dude... how much it's going to blow Kurt away to have Blaine here with him. It will just be like old times, yeah?"

[alloriginalgradeabadass]

Puck's fingers scratched over the strip of his scalp where his mohawk used to be while he looked up at Mike. "He... He probably needs it, dude. It was... It was the most horrific thing I've ever seen. Walking out of a wedding, fucking thrilled as hell to be there, thrilled as hell with where their lives were going. We'd danced for hours, some of us were half-drunk, despite Kurt's best efforts to keep it all classy. And then the classic bitch fight over the bouquet, and they were ready to go... Have hot, passionate honeymoon sex for fuckin' hours on end... You know. Klaine priorities. And then next thing we knew, those fuckers were shooting at us, and Kurt was..." He didn't say the word, having a hard enough time just thinking it. Having Blaine here like this, arriving in the same fucking clothes, covered in the very same blood? It was like reliving the whole thing all over again. Puck had rushed to Blaine's side, trying to sort through the blood and the adrenaline rush to figure out if Blaine was hurt, too, until they were telling him to step out of the way so they could treat the patients.

Puck was crying so hard it was like he couldn't catch his breath. It hurt so much seeing Blaine like this all over... Reliving this part of his life that he'd just as soon have forgotten. Fuck he wanted so much to go back to before... Before Kurt was dead in the real world. Before Blaine was dead. Before any of these horrible things had happened, and even as Mike tried to reassure him, Puck just sobbed harder. His arms wrapped around the jacket in lieu of being able to wrap them around Blaine, and he held onto it for dear life. All he could offer Mike was a very weak nod. He had to hold onto hope that, when Blaine and Kurt saw each other again, things might just be okay again. But even that wasn't helping him with the sensation of sheer aching agony in knowing what Blaine had just seen.