Chapter Text
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as he starts up a run towards the scuffle.
“Hey!” He jams his boot into the side of one of the more idle jocks, knocking him to the floor with a thud.
His breathing is slightly laboured from running and he doesn’t have any time to clock the fist swinging at him from his left, connecting with his jaw and knocking him back slightly. He swears as pain bursts and pulses under his skin.
He turns back and in one swift kick sends another guy whimpering to the floor, his hands flying between his legs instinctively.
He looks around frantically. There’s still two more guys to deal with and, as surprisingly strong as he is, he decides that he’s just maybe out of his depth in a four versus one. So he does the only logical thing he can think of.
“Holy shit Anderson, okay, we’ll leave, just put the fucking knife down,”
He grins, still wielding the blade as the two standing jocks drag their friends up in a slight panic.
“This isn’t over,” the biggest one, Karofsky, spits with finality. He gives one more bold kick to the body on the ground before shoving the others away.
In the thrill of the - rather short - fight, Blaine had completely forgotten that, hey, there’s a kid down there.
He looks down and frowns in recognition as the boy on the ground groans. It’s that skank kid- Kurt?
Kurt rolls onto his hands and knees and coughs harshly, his head hanging heavy between his arms. He takes a moment to suck in a few rattling breaths before using the wall in front of him to pull himself up. He leans against the wall heavily, angrily brushing the dirt from his jeans.
“I don’t need your fucking help,” he spits out, wiping the blood from his chin.
Blaine is stunned, he wasn’t expecting the guy to throw himself into his arms and weep his gratitude, but a thank you would’ve been nice.
“Oh, of course, clearly. You really looked like you had it all under control there, my bad,” he snarks, "Say, was having your arm pinned behind you back part of your brilliant plan or-“
“Fuck you,” Kurt cuts him off, trembling with anger as he pushes himself off the wall. One arm shoves Blaine back hard whilst the other cradles his aching sides. “What do you want? A fucking medal? No one gives a shit.” he’s breathing hard, panting out air, "Me least of all,”
Blaine stares back at him with a frown, trying to hide his shock behind a mask of indifference.
Something gives in Kurt’s posture and he looks away, too tired to start another fight. He pushes strands of blood-matted pink hair out of his eyes and winces as he brushes against a cut on his forehead. The anger seeps out of him in one shaky breath, leaving only exhaustion and pain aching in his bones.
“Just promise me one thing,” he looks up, meeting Blaine’s eyes, his voice rough, “Next time?” he swallows, "Don’t stop them,”
Blaine looks back at him and says nothing, even if they don’t know each other, that’s not something he can agree to. He just takes in Kurt's battered frame, the bruise threatening to form along his cheekbone, the harsh red of the area along with the cuts on his forehead and lip shockingly contrasting his pallor.
Kurt lingers, uncomfortable under Blaine’s gaze, huffing before he turns and starts walking away, trying to hide the slight limp accompanying his every move.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days,” Blaine calls at his retreating back.
He lets out a sardonic laugh, his ribs aching in protest. “Maybe that’s the point,” he shouts, not looking back.