On The Devil's Path

5

It was little things at first.

Remy closeting himself with strangers for long periods of time. Shouting behind closed doors. Noises Kurt couldn't identify. People and vehicles coming and going at all hours. Kurt never had any say over the money they shared-he had his own accounts, but Remy possessed the majority of their wealth-but he noticed large suns of money passing through their joint accounts. He found a gun or two in the house, tucked away in drawers and behind pieces of furniture.

Remy was home more often but grew distant despite that, the surge of romance that had blossomed between them during their anniversary gone almost immediately after. Kurt tried to engage him, to reach out, but more often than not he was rejected and left feeling pointless and hollow.

Blaine was gone on personal leave for two weeks, and when he returned Kurt didn't bother to pretend he hadn't been counting the hours. He knocked on Blaine's door that very morning, and blushed to the roots of his hair when Blaine answered the door wearing boxer briefs, a loaded gun belt, and a smile. He had bedhead and scruff and oh, god, Kurt could watch him walk away forever.

"Sorry, I got in late last night." Blaine's voice was morning-scratchy. "Give me a second."

Kurt stood in the doorway, his lips parted, feeling as if his feet were stapled to the floor. He was actually frightened of what he might do if he shut the door behind them, so he left it open while Blaine got dressed in the en suite bathroom.

"How was-um. Okay, I'm not sure where you went on your vacation, so."

Blaine laughed. He exited the bathroom, wearing a pair of black slacks but still shirtless. Kurt handed him the garment, which was resting over the back of a nearby chair.

"Thank you." Blaine smiled. "I visited my folks."

"Oh. That's nice." He watched Blaine button his shirt, tuck it into his pants, and tighten his belt, watched all of that lovely, smooth skin and those tight muscles disappear. His mouth actually watered. "Uh, I'd like to go out today. You up for it?"

"Of course. Where to?"

"I have a few errands I've been putting off. Nothing fancy."

He didn't say that, more than anything, he wanted to escape the oppressive prison the house had become.

They went shopping, beginning with some clothing boutiques and ending with a plant nursery Kurt had been patronizing in the course of redesigning the landscaping around the front of the house. He also had it in his head to put together a little floral arrangement to thank Blaine for all of his hard work, and slipped away from Blaine for a few minutes to ask a nursery employee to help him.

It happened so fast he never even saw it coming-two men in nondescript clothing flanked him and grabbed his arms. He opened his mouth to scream but inhaled fumes and cloth instead and the world went dark.

He woke up hours later in the back of a van, terrified and disoriented. He had nothing on him that he could use as a weapon, and his hands and legs were tied. The gag he wore was roughly jerked from between his teeth, and he gasped for air as the ache in his jaw faded. The men who were bold enough to snatch him in broad daylight were wearing ski masks.

"What do you want?" Kurt gasped. "I-"

The man to Kurt's right slapped him hard across the face. Pain exploded in his head-his ears rang and his head went dizzy and he whimpered, tasting blood in his mouth.

The men asked him questions he couldn't answer, about men whose names he didn't recognize, and every time he hesitated to respond they hit him. By the time they realized he legitimately knew nothing, he was bruised everywhere and shaking so hard he collapsed sideways onto the floor of the van.