With his arms spread long across the top edges of the couch and his legs crossed, Kurt leaned back like a king lounging on a throne.
"–I wish that we could lose this crowd…♫"
*Sob* "P-Please…. *sob* my leg hurts…"
"Maybe, it's better this way♫"
"It's not better, Mr. One-eyed Man. *Sob*"
"We'd hurt each other with the things we want to say♫"
"Please… I'm the one who's hurting…"
"We could have been so good–"
"Would you mind... shuttin' yer trap!? Yer singin' is giving me a headache, on top of me bleedin' to death…! *Sob*"
Kurt paused his song, casting an amused glance sideways. "Bleeding to death? Please. Looking at you, Emy intentionally missed your main artery. You'll live long enough to stand before the king, so stop whining."
Suddenly, Kurt's ears twitched.
Through the ambient silence of the warehouse, the faint sound of multiple boots crunching against the wet cobblestones outside drifted through the walls.
