Unsinkable

By hpswst101

Inspired by the fan-made music video on Youtube, "Klaine Goes Titanic."

Disclaimer: I do not own Kurt, Blaine or Burt. Nor the ship and in a way the plot. Enjoy! :)

He hated this, he hated his drab clothing and the boat and the sea air and the way the stupid foghorn kept sounding, keeping him up at night. But mostly Kurt just hated himself. Why? Why was he born?

He knew something was different about him, all the other boys his age were fancying the girls and flirting with them. Kurt liked their styles, but the women themselves held no appeal to his tastes. Instead Kurt had noticed that his preferences were more towards the male population than the female.

He liked their lines. He liked the wide shoulders, the narrow hips and the straight jaw. His nightly dreams always consisted of some male form lying beside him, snuggled close, breaths hot, fast and shallow on each other's lips.

Kurt Hummel was a homosexual. And he hated it. He hated how he couldn't just ignore these feelings or change them so he can be just as inflamed by the female form as by the male. He'd tried, but just couldn't. He yearned for the one thing he could never have. Even worse was the sheer fact that he couldn't say anything about it for fear of being locked up or killed.

He's heard the stories of men who have taken up with other males, they were never heard from again. Some get lucky and their families send them to a hospital to be corrected, yet none of those seem to come back or if they do, they are never the same. So Kurt did the only thing he could do, stay quiet. Yet it was times like now he had to wonder, if he was so unhappy why stay here? Why not leave?

Huh. What a thought. Why not? Slowly, but surely, he lifted himself up off the bed he had been sleeping on and got dressed. It was late, most people should be asleep by now, and no one will catch him. Glad once again to have his own room, Kurt left the suite, heading for the top deck; footsteps quiet so as not to attract attention.

As Kurt moved to the spot he had noticed earlier in the day, the perfect spot that would let him fall without hindrance, his father's words came back to him.

"Kurt… I know you're not excited about this marriage to Miss. Constance but we need this… Her family will keep you well looked-after and will help us get out of debts that your mother's sickness had incurred… Oh Kurt please don't give me those eyes, you mean the world to me... Aren't you at least happy that you're marrying into a family that owns a fashion company? I know you enjoy making your own designs..."

His father did care for him, being the only son from his dearly loved wife did mean the world to his father.

Kurt paused, the railing was cold and wet from the sea where his fingers gripped. Maybe he shouldn't… it would break his father completely to know he has lost his wife to illness and then his son to his own accord. It would break him. Could Kurt do that?

But it was the fear. The fear of being found out, the fear of entering a relationship with a woman he can never love. How could he pleasure her when he desired a form she could never be?

His throat had grown dry and his eyes were stinging from the salt air. He had to do this; it was the only way to save himself. Slowly, very carefully, Kurt took a step in between the railing's bars, letting himself go higher as he touched the cold pole next to him for balance.

The water would be cold, that was certain, but maybe it would all work out, after all he would surely be sent to a warm, fiery place for his affections and taking his own life.

"Wait! Stop!" A voice from behind Kurt called. It was male, a stranger's voice. "What are you doing? Get down from there!" Hearing fast footsteps Kurt hurried the process. No, he thought, go away! He wanted to do this, no he needed to do this, and he didn't want to keep second-guessing himself anymore. He just wanted to be free.

"STOP!" Kurt felt a hand grip the back of his shirt, pulling him back from the railing he was just about to jump over. The person was shorter than Kurt but stronger. He pulled Kurt back, an arm wrapping around Kurt's stomach as another wrapped around his chest. He sensed the stranger's warm breath against his cheek, ear and neck. Kurt felt his knees give out then and fall to the floor, taking the stranger with him.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?"

"Why did you stop me?"

"Why shouldn't I?" The challenging voice just as sharp as Kurt's had been. Kurt turned his head, wanting to meet this stranger in the eyes and tell him exactly why he should be let go, but he stopped for a second.

Those eyes.

What a color even in the dim light, they look brown, almost like honeyed amber with hazel. How beautiful. Kurt shook his head, getting a grip of himself.

"Because anything is better than my life right now!"

"Oh sure, your life is hell. Try going without food for a couple of days because you can't buy any. Try living in the cold, curled up with several others because you have no place to live and to keep warm. Sure your life is hell." The stranger drawled, not unkindly, more annoyed than anything else, but by the end his voice was soft, the harsh tone gone.

"Try having to please others on a daily basis, no matter what you want from your own life personally." Kurt mumbled in defense. "Try having to live by code, etiquette and harsh rules that if you do one thing wrong you get shunned. Being watched at every second of every day just waiting to watch you fall and then gossip about it behind your back. My life is no less harder than yours." The stranger didn't say anything but his arms loosened and a small bit of warmth that came from the contact seemed to go away, probably from the shared body heat. Nothing more.

"There must be something to live for." My dad. But it was also his dad that forced him into this position. Kurt stayed quiet.

"Hey!" Another strange voice called. "Whose 'ere!" The stranger's eyes went wide with fright.

"I've got to go," his voice suddenly becoming low. "Please don't kill yourself once I disappear. It's really not worth it, trust me. I know." And with that the stranger departed, but not before Kurt caught sight of the young man's clothing. They were well worn clothing with a patch in several places, this stranger surely was poor. But he didn't smell or speak like a poor man.

On the contrary he smelled of spice and honey and his voice had not been one of pigeon toed-English. Who was he?

"Who 'Ere!" The other voice called again, the guard, a clear accent shining in his voice. Kurt didn't move from the floor of the ship, the stranger's words haunting his mind.

A/N: So here is the first part of the story and I hope you enjoy the story ahead of you. It's only four parts long or so and is all written so all I have to do is post it. :) I hope all of you will enjoy this retelling of the Klaine story. Please review, thank you!

hpswst101