This Time Tomorrow

by KaelynnLovesGerard

'And, at the same time, Blaine and Burt tore their eyes from the body of the boy they'd both loved; one, as a son, and the other, as his everything. Those sightless eyes continued to stare upwards, at the heaven that they didn't believe in.'

I know. I should be updating The Love Dare. But bear with me, gentle viewers (Buffy references to distract you from the fact that I haven't updated in awhile.)

This came about from driving through a nearby neighborhood in the wake of a tornado. The tornado actually hit about half a mile from my house, and the whole town is just...upset, to paraphrase.

This is one of the freaking saddest things I've ever written- seriously, and you can ask my best friend, who has read an unpublished Klaine oneshot in which they consummate their love while Burt is undergoing bypass surgery. And that was pretty sad.

Anyways, enjoy.

...

"Please?"

Upon hearing that single syllable leave the lips of his boyfriend, Kurt Hummel gritted his teeth and turned to Blaine, narrowing his eyes threateningly as the other boy gazed at him beseechingly.

"No, Blaine," he said for the seventh time since they'd arrived home from school, shaking his head and turning back to the sketchbook on his lap, frowning at a small charcoal smudge on the jacket that he was sketching. Reaching out to rub at said smudge, Kurt heard movement behind himself, before once again turning to see Blaine on his knees, his hands clasped pleadingly in front of his chest.

Kurt rolled his eyes and put his face in his hands. "Oh, for the love of- Blaine, if your shoes stain this bedspread, I will have your guts for garters. Sit correctly and maybe I will discuss this with you."

The other boy immediately obeyed, apparently having abandoned his uncharacteristically childish behavior in favor of actually getting somewhere with his argument. Kurt grinned smugly as Blaine plopped down lightly beside him, and erased a few stray notes that he'd deemed no longer relevant to the design of the jacket.

"So," Blaine began, after sitting in silence for a few moments, his eyes absently straying to the sketchbook in Kurt's hands. "Can we talk now?"

Heaving a great sigh, Kurt nodded, putting his notebook to the side and wondering whether or not he'd ever finish a design without interruption. He sat up straighter on the bed, crossing his legs and turning to face Blaine once again, immediately bracing himself against the jutting lower lip and pathetic eyes that he had turned on him full-force. "Yes, we may. But I'll have you know that you're not going to change my mind. There is no way in hell that I am going to that baseball game."

"But, Kurt," Blaine began, placing a hand on Kurt's knee. The other boy didn't miss the gesture, and narrowed his eyes at the dark-headed senior. "You know this is one of Finn's last games. You could at least support your brother."

An eyebrow raised, Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Blaine with a level gaze. "You and I both know that this has nothing to do with supporting Finn. This has to do with you not wanting to go alone and end up sitting next to Rachel."

Dropping his previous façade, Blaine groaned and propelled himself forward onto his boyfriend of a year, causing him to fall backwards against the pillows. Letting out a surprised, strangled 'oof' noise, Kurt allowed the other teenager to press against him, wrapping his arms around Blaine securely.

"You don't understand, Kurt!" Blaine exclaimed from the lap of the boy he was speaking to, his voice muffled by the material of Kurt's pale-pink button-down. "She asks questions- constantly! 'Oh, what's going on? Is that a foul? Why is Noah walking to first base, even though he didn't hit the ball?' It drives me insane!"

Biting back a retort about that being one of the many things that turned him off of sports in the first place, Kurt chuckled lightly and ran his hand over Blaine's back. "And why would dragging me along to suffer the same fate be any better?" he asked.

Blaine lifted his head from Kurt's stomach and deadpanned, "Misery loves company."

Drama queen, Kurt thought, before reminding himself that he had no right to be accusing Blaine of something that he was often guilty of. Instead, he shook his head to clear his thoughts, and placed a hand on the back of Blaine's neck. "As much as I'd love to sit through a few torturous hours on the receiving end of annoying questions, I have to finish this jacket. It is driving me insane. One might equate it with the curious habits of Rachel Berry."

As he'd expected, Blaine scowled and sat up, now straddling Kurt's hips. Kurt blushed lightly, but it went unnoticed as his boyfriend glared down at him.

"You're an asshole," he told Kurt sourly from his elevated height.

"Oh, honestly," Kurt replied, exasperated. "If you really don't want to sit with Rachel, just stay here and forget about the whole thing."

It was Blaine's turn to sigh in frustration, and he ran a hand through his loose curls. "I believe I mentioned that it's one of the last games of Finn's high school career, which means it's one of the last games I'll ever see as a proud Titan." Kurt snorted at his irrational school spirit, but Blaine ignored him, continuing with as much fervor as before. "Come on, this is our senior year. We need to get out and do things."

Having suddenly been hit with an idea of sorts, Kurt smiled slyly and nodded pointedly to the place where Blaine's legs straddled his narrow hips. "Or," he began, seeing Blaine's face become a tad confused, "we could stay here and have sex for the rest of the evening."

Blaine froze, and then immediately scrambled off of his boyfriend, to Kurt's disappointment. He scooted up against Kurt's side, cuddling against him, but Kurt, feeling a slight sting at Blaine's rejecting his (though meaningless) proposition, simply stared forward coldly.

"Listen," Blaine began after a moment, reaching up to put his hand against the cool, smooth skin of Kurt's cheek. Kurt flinched away, and noticed, to his horror, that tears were beginning to gather in his eyes. Pull yourself together, he told himself, even as Blaine continued, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. As much fun as staying here and doing…that sounds, I actually hadn't planned on us losing our virginities to each other while your father is in the house."

Kurt huffed, but his gaze was no longer frosty; he'd freely admit that he'd been more than a bit hurt by Blaine's immediate rejection, but his apology made up for the sting. Turning on his side to look Blaine in the eyes, he twined their fingers together in the space between their bodies. "Fine. But we could find something else to do."

A half-smile twisting up his face, Blaine quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to finish your sketch."

"You could…watch me?"

His pathetic attempt at swaying Blaine had no effect on the other boy. Blaine shook his head, his half-smile becoming a full-fledged grin as he squeezed Kurt's hand in his.

"I just really want you to come to the game. Please?" he asked, his warm brown eyes boring earnestly into Kurt's, but the countertenor knew exactly what he was playing at.

Kurt flicked the bridge of Blaine's nose.

"Ow," Blaine muttered, sounding slightly confused, rubbing the spot that Kurt had just flicked with an injured expression. Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, before sitting up and giving his boyfriend a stern look.

"Blaine Anderson, don't you dare try to make me swoon with those enormous brown orbs of yours."

Just as Kurt realized what he'd said, grimacing and bracing himself for whatever Blaine was about to say, Blaine snickered. "Oh, don't worry, the orbs aren't out to play right now, Kurt."

Kurt smacked his arm, hard, and shoved him until three or four feet on his spacious bed separated them. His chuckling evolving into loud, booming laughter, Blaine rolled about on top of the comforter, clutching his stomach and paying Kurt's previous smack no mind.

You're lucky that I love you, Kurt mentally informed Blaine, but otherwise prepared himself to wait out his fit of laughter, picking at his cuticles as his boyfriend wheezed and doubled over beside him. To be quite honest, he found Blaine's infrequent childish behavior to be a little adorable, and began to gaze affectionately at him as the other boy's giggling subsided.

"Did you have fun?" Kurt asked Blaine sarcastically when he sat up, his laughter having completely ceased.

Scooting closer to Kurt until their hips were touching, Blaine wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a light kiss to his boyfriend's cheek. "I'm sorry," he apologized, and Kurt immediately decided to forgive him, turning to brush his cheek against the other boy's. "It's just- Kurt. You should think about things before you say them." He finished his sentence with another chuckle, but, upon seeing Kurt's warning look, quickly silenced himself.

"Well, you were trying to screw with my mind by using your eyes. That's not fair."

"It's totally fair. Now you know how I feel when you want to take me into Bath & Body Works."

Kurt squinted at the other boy in perplexity and shook his head. "You love Bath & Body."

"I used to. Before I nearly got high from sniffing so many candles for three hours straight."

Sniffing, Kurt tipped his chin upward. "I'm sorry. There was a sale. What did you expect?"

Blaine ignored his question, and instead sat up, once again twining their fingers together. "We aren't talking about Bath & Body Works. We're talking about why you're a cruel, cruel person, and want me to die at the hands of one Rachel Berry."

Kurt groaned, rolling his eyes for the tenth time that day, and swatted at Blaine's shoulder with his free hand. "I'm. Not. Going." He paused, struck by the thought of something that Burt had mentioned that morning before he had left for school. "Besides, the entirety of Lima's populace is mumbling about perfect conditions for tornado weather. As much as you seem to want to, I just cannot bring myself to leave this world whilst cheering on a bunch of testosterone-filled meatheads who used to toss me into dumpsters."

Giving him a knowing look, Blaine grazed his cheek with his thumb and murmured, "You know that if you actually believed that I could be in danger, you wouldn't let me go."

Sighing in defeat, Kurt nodded. "You're right. But that doesn't change my mind. I'm not going to be attending this game. Maybe next time. I have to finish-" he cut himself off abruptly, looking around himself. Blaine eyed him curiously as he prodded at Blaine's backside, urging the other boy to move. And then- "OH, NO! BLAINE, STAND UP RIGHT THIS MINUTE AND DON'T MOVE!"

Obviously confused by Kurt's contradictory demand, Blaine scrambled off of the bed and stood anyway, and Kurt groaned as he did so, seeing that he'd been sitting on his sketchbook. Blaine stared in what looked like all-consuming fear at the smudged sketch of a marching band-esque jacket, as Kurt threw his face into his hands once again and shook his head.

"Kurt, I'm so-"

The countertenor held up a hand, closing his eyes and biting his lip. "Just- don't, Blaine. It's okay. I'll redo it." He paused and offered up a small smile, deciding to avoid another argument. He knew that he'd made the right decision when he saw Blaine sigh in relief. "I didn't like the breast pocket's placement anyways."

"I really do apologize," Blaine offered up sheepishly, taking a seat beside Kurt once again.

Smiling softly, Kurt looked down at the smeared charcoal drawing in his hands, mentally calculating how long it would take him to redraw it. Half an hour, if I want to get the details as precise as before, he figured, and placed the paper on his bedside table, before turning to face an embarrassed Blaine. He put a hand over the one that rested on the edge of the bed and patted it lightly.

"You know that your ass is probably black, right?"

Blaine seemed a bit stunned at his words and sudden mood change, but answered anyway. "Right."

"I'm going to have to help you wash your jeans. The stain won't come out without a fight."

"I deserve it."

"I'll need to treat them with a prewash stain remover."

"You know," Blaine began upon hearing that, cocking his head. "Maybe you should just beat the shit out of me. I cannot go on with this guilt."

His sarcasm was not missed by Kurt, who narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend for a moment, before smiling brightly. "I think sitting at the game with Rachel will be punishment enough."

…..

"Well, that was certainly exciting!" Rachel exclaimed brightly, her arm linked in Finn's as they walked from the McKinley High baseball diamond, Blaine trailing slowly behind with a slightly murderous look on his face. "I'm so glad that you got that last point for your team! It really helped!"

Finn, with a downtrodden expression on his dirt-smeared face, simply mumbled, "Rachel, we lost by thirteen runs."

Blaine bit back a laugh as he watched Rachel frown in confusion and respond, "But…the stands were full of McKinley students. And they were cheering!"

"Rachel…they were cheering for the other team."

Unable to contain himself, Blaine snorted, earning double takes from a few passing players. He bit his lip, trying to conceal a grin and failing when Rachel turned around to glare at him. Ducking his head, he vaguely wondered whether or not Kurt had gotten out all of his creativity; after that mess- Rachel asking countless questions as he tried and failed to pay attention to the game- he felt that he deserved a reward, minus the distractions.

'I think sitting at the game with Rachel will be punishment enough,' his mind echoed suddenly, and he cursed his momentary inability to notice a notebook pressing into his spine. Damn you, Kurt, he thought, knowing that, upon bemoaning his awful time at the game, Kurt would only raise an eyebrow as if to say, that's what you get. Blaine kicked at the reddish-brown dirt of the field, his hopes of a nice make-out session dwindling by the moment.

"Blaine, do hurry," he heard Rachel say, and snapped his head up to see that Finn and Rachel were already standing at Finn's beat-up, old Datsun. "It's starting to rain." She punctuated her sentence by pointing at the sky, where, sure enough, ominous blackish-gray clouds had begun to move in, rain falling from them and splitting the unusually warm April air with slices of cold moisture. Blaine put a hand above his head, attempting to shield his face from the freezing rain as he jogged to the car.

"Shotgun!" someone shouted from behind Blaine, and he turned to see Noah Puckerman racing in the direction of Finn's car, his baseball bag slung over his shoulder and a cap precariously perched on his mohawked head. Blaine could have groaned; of course Puck would be joining them, which definitely guaranteed assorted innuendos and allusions to gay sex. He watched as Puck attempted to jump into the passenger seat, only to have Finn point toward the back. Dejectedly, Puck pulled opened the second door and threw his bag into the seat, scrambling in after it.

Once Blaine had reached the Datsun, he pulled open the rusted passenger door, and sat, thankful that Finn had reserved the passenger seat for him. However, before he could buckle his seatbelt, someone piled onto his lap, knocking his head back against the headrest of the seat.

"Rachel-!"

"Now, Blaine, don't be alarmed. My dads brought me here, and, as Finn has probably told you, he promised to bring me home."

Blaine shifted uncomfortably and looked over at his boyfriend's brother, who'd just entered the car. Simply shrugging in response, Finn turned the key in the ignition, the radio springing to life and blaring an old country station.

"Wait," Blaine began, looking up at the girl on his lap, who was ducking her head in order to avoid bumping it on the ceiling. "Why don't you just sit in the back seat?"

Giving him a withering look, (which was horrifyingly reminiscent of Kurt's facial expressions that afternoon), she nodded pointedly to the back seat, a grimace on her pretty face. Blaine looked back also, only to see Puck sprawled across discarded fast food cartons and assorted articles of greasy clothing, his hands behind his head and his legs crossed. "That back seat is absolutely filthy. I've been prodding Finn to clean it out for a month now, but he's…well," she finished lamely as an explanation for Finn's laziness. However, Blaine really didn't need an explanation, having known the boy for just over a year now and of his rather…disgusting tendencies for almost as long.

Rachel shivered, bringing him out of his thoughts. "Anyway," she continued, tossing another repulsed look toward the back seat, "the only viable option remaining was to take up residence on your lap. Unless you'd rather sit on mine," she added as an afterthought, but Blaine shook his head fervently. "Or maybe you'd like to sit in the back."

"Hell no."

"Hey!" Finn exclaimed from beside them, pulling out of the McKinley parking lot, an offended look on his face. "I'm right here, you know. You shouldn't insult my baby."

Blaine snorted. "You refer to your vehicle as baby? Kurt is rubbing off on you, isn't he?"

"Actually," Puck piped up from the back, "I'd say Hummel is rubbing off on you."

Blushing a bright red, Blaine mumbled to himself, and Rachel made a scandalized noise. Finn simply glanced backwards for a moment, a confused look on his face.

"Noah!" Rachel exclaimed. "As much as I support Kurt and Blaine's relationship, and the healthy sex lives of gay teens, I'm sure they wouldn't like you mentioning their bedroom antics in the company of others. Apologize."

Blaine heard a huff from the back, and then Puck grumble, "Sorry, dude."

"Wait, I'm confused-" Finn began, but Puck cut him off.

"When aren't you confused?"

Finn ignored that, shaking his head as if to get his thoughts straight again. He turned to Blaine, and all of a sudden, Blaine knew what was coming as the other boy asked, "What did Puck mean? How does Kurt rubbing off on you have anything to do with sex?"

Internally groaning, Blaine pressed his face against Rachel's back, as Puck burst into laughter. He'd thought that ride on the way to the game alone with Finn would be awkward, but this was proving to be much more uncomfortable.

"Dude," Puck said, sitting up to pat Finn's shoulder. "Rubbing off. Think about it."

His face still perplexed, Finn sat for a moment, driving in silence as the radio played a Johnny Cash song, before his eyes widened in realization and he nearly careened off of the side of the road. He turned to Puck, his face red with embarrassment, and shook his head. "Man, you can't just say something like that- that's my brother!"

"Which makes it ten times as hilarious," Puck concluded, and reclined once again in the pile of filth that was the backseat.

"Stop, Noah. Blaine's embarrassed," Rachel scolded, glaring at him, before glancing down at Blaine and patting his shoulder affectionately. He smiled up at her, trying to seem grateful.

They all sat in silence for a moment, Finn gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, before he said, "But, seriously, you guys should stop insulting my car."

Puck sat up once again and leaned over the front seat, his sweaty armpits inches from Blaine's face. He nearly gagged as Puck reached toward the radio dial and told Finn, "It's pretty nasty, man."

"It may be a little…yeah, but- come on, it's not that bad," Finn conceded as Puck turned the station to classic rock, and Blaine absentmindedly wondered why it hadn't been set on classic rock in the first place, based on his previous experiences in Finn's car.

"Dude, yes. It is."

"No-"

A sudden monotonous, static-marred voice blaring through the speakers cut off Finn's words, nearly unintelligible: "This is the Emergency Broadcast System. A tornado watch has been issued for the following areas: Lima, Celina, Findlay, Westerville. This watch is in effect until 10 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time."

A few irritating bleeping noises followed the fuzzy voice on the radio, and the four teenagers in Finn's car sat in silence. Before-

"Welp, I'm going to die a virgin," Puck said from the backseat, as Rachel, Finn, and Blaine turned to fix him with bemused stares. Blaine saw Rachel scowl, narrowing her brown eyes at Puck from her place on his lap.

"Noah, they've issued watches all day," Rachel informed him with a glare. "That simply means that conditions are ideal for a tornado. If there were any circulation within a twenty-mile radius, they'd most likely issue a warning. Besides, it's eight right now, so there are only two hours left until the watch expires. Therefore, you aren't going to die. And you certainly aren't going to die a virgin."

Puck smirked and looked her up and down. "Keep talking weather. Makes me horny."

Finn exclaimed, "Hey!" while Rachel simply sniffed and tossed her hair, effectively whipping it into Blaine's slightly agape mouth. He sputtered, trying to get the brown strands from his mouth and failing.

Turning to face Blaine, Finn's eyebrows furrowed, and Blaine could read the worry on his face as he asked, "Should we call Kurt?"

Thinking, Blaine remembered Kurt turning up the radio as he'd left the basement, and shook his head, assuming that Kurt had heard the message. "Not yet," Blaine told Finn, although he felt a strange sense of foreboding, as he always had when contemplating the possibility of something bad happening to his boyfriend. "No…not yet. He had the radio on when I left…" he trailed off, reaching up to bite at his thumbnail.

A resolute look on his face, Finn nodded. "We'll call if there's a warning."

"I honestly don't see what you two are worried about," Rachel piped up, twisting to look at Blaine and nearly elbowing him in the face in the process. "Kurt has had disaster training before- in fact, he'll probably be the most prepared of us all. We were just having a conversation a few days ago about how his worst nightmare is dying in Lima."

Hearing Rachel use that word- dying, like it was nothing- made Blaine shiver and want badly to be with Kurt at the moment. He glanced down at his phone to see if he had any messages, and, upon seeing that he didn't, texted Kurt.

Did you hear the warning? Are you safe?

Kurt's reply followed in the next forty seconds:

Yeah. And I live in a freaking basement. I'll be fine.

Blaine chuckled to himself, his chest instantly lighter, but something still tugged at the edges of his mind, reminding him that bad things happen all of the time.

…..

"Puckerman, if you pinch my butt again, I'll be forced to knee you in the groin."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, I would," Blaine threatened, rubbing his backside as he stepped over the threshold of the Berrys' home, and winced when he felt Puck pinch his bottom a second time.

Rachel turned from her spot in front of Blaine and pointed a finger at Puck, a stern look on her face. "Stop violating Blaine in my home, or I'll have Finn remove you."

"You're boyfriend is my ride home. I'm here as long as he is." Smiling smugly, Puck crossed his arms over his chest, which was now bare; in fact, now that he thought about it, Blaine had no idea how he'd come to be shirtless, but could care less when Puck leaned over to attempt to pinch him a third time. Acting out of instinct, Blaine grabbed the arm that stretched toward him, twisted it up, and saw Puck's eyes widen for a split second before he kneed him between the legs.

Puck keeled over, and Blaine jumped backwards to avoid the falling form of the jock. Shaking his head at his friend, Blaine said, "I have a rape whistle, you know. Don't try that shit with me."

A toilet flushed, and Finn walked into the room, only halfway done zipping his fly, causing Rachel to gasp, appalled. He looked up at her, a questioning expression on his face, before glancing down and doing a double take at Puck's form rolling around on the floor.

"What happened to Puck?" he asked, his eyes traveling between the three other teenagers, searching for an answer.

"Noah decided that it would be okay to grab Blaine's butt."

A grunting sound came from the floor, and Blaine saw that Puck had recovered somewhat and was holding up a hand. For a moment, he felt sorry for the guy; he knew what it was like to take a blow to the genitals "Didn't…grab it…pinched."

Blaine shook his head and reached up to knead the bridge of his nose. "Whatever. I don't like people touching me without permission."

"Like Kurt?" Finn asked curiously.

Even Puck stopped squirming on the floor to stare at him.

After a moment, Finn hung his head and looked at the carpet, his shoulders slumping dejectedly, and sighed. "Right. Awkward question."

Puck stood, fully recovered, and brushed his bare stomach off. Cracking his knuckles, he nodded toward the door, looking pointedly at Finn. "Dude. 'Call Of Duty' awaits. Why are we even here in the first place?"

"So we can check on the weather. We just talked about this in the car," his best friend answered exasperatedly, looking at him in disbelief.

Blaine very nearly rolled his eyes, knowing the exact reason why Puck had no idea of what was going on; somewhere between McKinley High and Rachel's house, he'd fallen asleep, and had thus missed the conversation that he, Rachel, and Finn had had about what to do in the event of an emergency, his snores drowning out any other sound but their talking voices.

Shrugging, Puck made his way into the sitting room. "Wasn't listening."

Exchanging knowing looks, Blaine and Rachel followed suit, with Finn bringing up the rear as they entered the living room.

Chewing on his lip worriedly, Blaine took a seat on the recliner nearest the bright orange couch, glancing down at his phone once again as Rachel pressed a button on the remote and the television came to life. He watched as Puck jumped over the arm of the couch and landed on his back, his mud-caked shoes scraping the arm on the opposite side of the sofa. Offhandedly wondering if he should text Kurt again, Blaine was pulled from his thoughts when Rachel turned the television to The Weather Channel.

"-and in the event of a tornado, you should get underground, or into a small space. If you are in your car, stop and find a nearby ditch-"

"And what the hell will that do?" Puck interrupted the weatherman, who was currently outlining disaster plans for those who hadn't take the time to make them yet. "If you lay down in a ditch, you might as well kiss your ass goodbye."

Rachel tapped his head with the TV remote, shushing him.

The weatherman on the screen paused in his instructions, as someone off-camera handed him a small slip of paper. Blaine saw his lips move as he silently read it, before the middle-aged man looked back up with nearly undetectable fear in his eyes, and his stomach dropped as he said, "Funnel clouds have been reportedly spotted forming over Lima Elementary. A tornado warning has been issued for the Lima and Westerville areas of Ohio. I repeat, a warning. If you live in either of these areas, get underground or into a small, enclosed area such as a bathroom-"

Blaine and Finn turned to stare at each other in horror, and Rachel whimpered quietly. Even Puck had gone silent, his wide eyes locked on the screen as the weatherman continued to repeat his previous instructions.

"I have to call Kurt," Blaine said, panic seeping into his tone as his mind raced, and opened his phone to punch in his boyfriend's number. Tapping his foot, he waited patiently as Kurt's ring-back tone sounded in his ear, and nearly threw the phone to the ground when it rang a ninth time before going to voicemail.

"Did he answer?" Rachel asked, moving to sit on the arm of the recliner that he sat on and placing a hand on his left bicep.

Swallowing, Blaine shook his head, his heartbeat quickening dramatically. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finn's eyes grow even larger, as he stumbled forward and wrenched his own phone from his pocket.

Finn clumsily punched a few buttons, and had his phone halfway to his ear when thunder cracked outside, making him drop the device and turn to stare in horror out the window beside the television.

Hail had begun to pound against the glass in dime-sized pebbles, creating a deafening roar as it fell. As Blaine watched, the amount of frozen water increased steadily, and he saw a thin web of cracks form on the bottom left of the large window. Horror-stricken, he stood, his head swimming momentarily at how suddenly all of this had happened.

He vaguely remembered a teacher once explaining that one of the reasons that tornados were so devastating was that one had little to no warning of the storm happening, but shook his head rapidly, trying to clear his thoughts.

Puck stood from his place on the couch just as the television and lights snapped off, the wind beginning to howl and whine outside. The only remaining source of light was the dim, orange-tinted daylight that remained outside, which could barely be seen through the ice that rapidly fell from the sky.

"Rachel, where are your dads?" Puck shouted over the roar of the hail, taking two large strides to stand in front of where Blaine and Rachel sat. Her eyes, previously locked on the cracks that were slowly spreading over the window, snapped up to look at him as he yelled again, "Where are your dads?"

Seeming to snap out of her stupor, Rachel stood on her tiptoes to shout, "They left for the airport as soon as they dropped me off at the game! They've already left! Although it's debatable as to whether or not the flight would leave under possible tornadic conditions!"

Puck appeared to absorb that information, before grabbing her arm and motioning to Finn and Blaine. "Come on! We need to get somewhere safe! Do you have a basement, Rachel?"

Rachel stared at him blankly before turning to look at Blaine with fear in her eyes, ignoring Puck's question. She gave Blaine a pleading look, and he stepped forward to reassure her even as his own mind was consumed with terror.

Suddenly feeling terrible for all of the horrible things he'd said about her earlier, Blaine was about to embrace her when Finn shouted, "Yeah, she does! There's a door down the hall that leads to it!" as a response to Puck's previous inquiry and wrapped an arm around Rachel's back, before guiding her toward the doorway that led to the hall.

Blaine and Puck followed suit, and the latter turned to the other boy before asking, "Did you get a hold of Hummel?" with a worried look on his face. Blaine shook his head, but once again pressed the speed-dial for Kurt's number as they made their way down the bright-yellow front hall. Pressing a finger to his free ear in order to block the noise of the hail and wind, he listened as the phone rang four times, and then a voice answered, "Hello?"

"Kurt!" The relief coursing through his body was a blessing, as he nearly began to cry at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. "Did you hear the warning? About the tornado?"

There was a pause, and Blaine could hear a steady rumble in the background. He surmised that it was also hailing at the Hummels', and began to fret over the amount of time that Kurt was taking to reply before he heard him shout, "No! I was listening to my iPod! I would've missed your call if I hadn't been paying attention. Why? Is there a warning?"

Blaine saw Finn open the door to the basement, still gently cradling Rachel's back as he began to nudge her down the stairs. "Yes! Stay in the basement!"

"Are you safe? Are you with Finn?"

"Yes," Blaine began as Puck quickened his pace toward the basement door, and began to walk faster to keep up with the other boy. "We're at Rachel's!" Pausing, he jumped as thunder cracked once again, sounding as if right outside the house. Lightening flashed, illuminating the yellow walls and the petrified look on Puck's face as he tried to usher him into the basement.

A sudden, morbid thought struck Blaine, a horrible thought that made him want to be sick, but, knowing that it was possible, he urgently said, "I love you, Kurt! Please, please be safe! I love you!"

"I lo-"

Kurt's voice was cut off by the most awful, deafening noise that Blaine had heard in his eighteen years on Earth. He dropped his phone as the house seemed to shake, scrambling down the basement steps behind Puck and nearly falling halfway down.

He reached the bottom of the stairs just as the strange noise reached a fever pitch. Somewhere close, Rachel was screaming, but Blaine was unable to see in the dark of the basement. Blaine stumbled toward the direction of her voice, his protective instinct taking over even as his mind turned to Kurt and his safety, his thoughts consumed with gruesome images of his love lying beneath a pile of rubble-

Feeling strong arms grab a hold of his shoulders, he was steered away from his current spot, just as he heard a crash behind himself.

"Get down!" he heard Finn shout from a few feet away, and those arms steered him toward the ground, forcing him onto his stomach. Blaine was slightly stunned that he could even be heard over the deafening roar of what he now realized must be a tornado, but those thoughts were quickly forced to the back of his mind as the sound grew, if possible, even louder.

A sudden, fierce pain in his ankle caused Blaine to twist around to look behind himself. Lightening briefly illuminated the room through the small ground level window, and he saw what he thought to be a small bedside table lying across his leg, the glass door broken and slicing into his ankle as the foundation of the house seemed to shake. Grimacing in pain, he clawed himself forward, feeling the glass tear at his flesh as he moved across the floor.

"Are you okay?" Puck's voice shouted from behind him, and then the weight on his ankle was gone, the mohawked teen presumably having lifted it from his legs. He realized that Puck had been the force steering him from the first crash, and silently thanked him as he crawled forward and found purchase against fabric.

"RACHEL!" Blaine exclaimed, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of the tornado. The roar reverberated in his spine, his eyeballs seeming to buzz in their sockets as he heard an earsplitting snapping noise and the sound of glass breaking. He suddenly felt his loose curls whipping around in the wind, and there was another flash of lightening as a filing cabinet near him fell to the ground with a piercing crash.

A hand reached out from the darkness, and he took hold, feeling his ankle throb and knowing that he'd need stitches if he got out alive. He was pulled across the ground, and suddenly he was pressed against what smelled like Rachel.

"It's here!" she shouted, panicked. "Oh my- it's here! IT'S RIGHT ABOVE US!"

Blaine gritted his teeth against the hysterical screams that threatened to leave his mouth as some of the ceiling caved in on the basement. Horrified, he looked up to see that the sky was completely black, almost as dark as night, before he hunched over Rachel, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she pressed against what he presumed was Finn.

A thought occurring to him amidst the crazy tumult in his mind, Blaine shouted, "Puck! Puck, where are you?" as he heard Finn begin to stumble over a recitation of the Lord's Prayer beside him. He mentally joined in as his eyes searched the pitch-black in front of him, before he saw Puck's face appear in front of his.

Puck drew his knees up to his chest, tucking his face into his lap as he yelled, "I'm fine, damn it, don't worry about me!"

Blaine closed his eyes against the hail that was now raining in through the gap in the ceiling, covering his head with one arm and helping Finn shield Rachel with the other.

The hellishly loud sound of the tornado seemed to grow to an earsplitting shriek as Blaine reached out for something, anything, to grasp. He felt Rachel slip her soft, small hand into his and grip it so tightly that he thought she might break a few of his fingers. Looking over through the dimness, he barely saw that she had one half of her face pressed against Finn's chest, her eyes closed tightly.

Another crash sounded in the dark, and a scream bubbled up in Blaine's throat when he felt something fly by his face, the rough surface of said object scraping his cheek. He reached up, but was unable to tell if he was bleeding for the wetness of the driving rain and hail that was falling.

And then, the deafening roar of the storm seemed to die down considerably, even as the wind picked up the slack and the mix of rain and hail continued to drive against the soft skin of Blaine's face.

"I think it's- I think it might be stopping!" he yelled to the others, and heard Rachel cry out once again as there was another sharp snapping noise that, after a fleeting moment of consideration, Blaine thought must be the sound of timber breaking.

"Don't count your fucking chickens before they hatch, Anderson!" Puck shouted from in front of Blaine, as the wind forced his face against his chest. Lightening struck somewhere close to the house, so bright that Blaine saw stars for ten seconds afterward.

Please, God, make this stop, Blaine prayed in his head, closing his eyes as he wrapped his left arm tighter still around Rachel. Please, this can't go on forever.

…..

And it didn't.

As they felt the wind come to a screeching halt, and the rain die down to a light patter, all four teenagers that were huddled in the corner of the Berrys' basement raised their heads to look to the sky, seeing a strip of midnight-blue amidst the oppressive black clouds.

They each slowly stood, one by one, and the rain ceased entirely as a blood-red sunset became visible on the horizon. Looking around at the ruined surroundings, they made their way up the stairs, Blaine limping and holding onto Puck for support as his ankle throbbed violently and his head pounded. They all took in the sight of the destroyed home around them, the house that had once been bright and cheery, all yellow and pastels.

Finn was the first to begin to cry.

…

"Get in the car, Hudson, now," Puck commanded as the other boy stood outside of the barely-scratched Datsun, his hands on top of his head and his eyes wide with near-hysteria.

"Rachel said that she doesn't remember how long you're supposed to wait to drive after a tornado!"

"Screw the mini-cadet! We need to get the hell out of here and go find out if our families are okay!"

"But-"

"Finn!" Blaine shouted, his head spinning sickeningly, having had enough of their incessant arguing. He was on the edge of panic, his mind frantic with wanting to find out if Kurt was okay. "Get in the damn car, or I'll kick your ass! I don't give a shit if there's some sort of rule about how long you have to wait to drive, I want to know if the love of my life is alive or not! And you should, too. He's your brother."

Seemingly appalled by Blaine's sudden anger, Finn widened his eyes and threw his hands up, feigning surrender as Rachel wrapped an arm around his waist and murmured quietly, "Get in, Finn. He's right." Blaine gave her a grateful nod, wincing when he felt the cut on his cheek split open slightly. She nodded back, pushing Finn to the door and pulling it open.

"I'm sorry, man!" Finn exclaimed as he sat down in the driver's seat, an apologetic look on his frantic face. "I just- I'm- I- I'm freaking out! We just sat through a tornado!"

"Believe it or not, assface, we remember," Puck interjected rudely from his new spot in the backseat, helping Rachel gingerly into the seat beside him. "We were there."

Growing quiet, Finn turned the key in the ignition and flinched when Blaine got into the passenger's seat and slammed the door shut. Blaine looked over to him, seeing the weary, scared look on the other boy's face, and immediately softened. His demeanor relaxed, and he put his hand on Finn's arm as the engine roared to life.

"I'm sorry for shouting- it's just- I haven't really let it sink in that-" Blaine paused in his apology, swallowing audibly at the thought of what he was about to say, "-that Kurt could be…not okay."

"I get it, man. I'm the one who should say sorry."

Blaine shook his head, squeezing Finn's arm lightly as he pulled out onto the road from the spot that they'd found his unscathed Datsun, nearly twenty feet from it's original place in the Berrys' driveway. "It's fine. We just need to get there." After a moment, he took his hand from Finn's bicep and ran it through his curly locks. "Fast."

….

Twenty minutes later, Blaine had his arms wrapped around Finn and Rachel's shoulders as he limped from the car, Puck following behind warily as they approached the pile of wreckage that had once been the Hummel home.

Barely able to see specific details in the gloom, Blaine squinted, his throat seizing up with dread as he noticed the derelict state of the surrounding houses.

Kurt, please, please, please, I love you, I love you, please, be okay-

"Oh, no," Finn breathed, and Blaine's disorderly train of jumbled, nearly unintelligible thoughts came to a screeching halt as his eyes found what Finn's breathy plea had been directed toward.

A body lay a few yards away, unfamiliar in the dim twilight, but Blaine's mind immediately jumped to conclusions, as Finn's apparently had. He stumbled forward, attempting to get ahead of Finn and Rachel, but felt his ankle protest shrilly upon loosening his hold on their shoulders. "Please, no," he whimpered as they approached the form that lay on the ground.

Finn recognized the body first, his voice coming out in a choked whisper as he informed them of whom it was. "It's- it's my mom…MOM!" he cried, sinking to his knees, and Blaine had to lean against Rachel momentarily, his shock rendering him only able to gape at the sight of Finn hunched over the unmoving shape on the ground.

"Finn…"

Rachel tensed, as did Blaine, and he heard Finn's voice, now desperately hopeful and confused, ask, "Mom…?"

"Finn, is that you?" the form on the ground asked, and Blaine released the breath he was holding with a relieved sigh.

"Mom," Finn nearly groaned, and leaned over the woman on the ground, who, now that Blaine was closer, he could see was breathing shallowly. "Are you alright?"

There was a moment of silence, before Carole croaked, "I just…I think I broke some ribs, honey. I-" she paused, and Blaine heard her give a quiet moan. "I think my arm is broken, too. Can you- can you help me up, baby?"

Finn let out a hysterical little giggle that was almost a sob. "Yes, Mom, I'll help you up. Puck, can you…?"

"Uh, yeah." Puck's voice sounded dazed, and Blaine turned his head to see the other boy staring at Carole with wide, shocked eyes. He seemed to be frozen for a few seconds, but then broke out of his stupor to step forward and aid Finn in getting the woman into an upright position.

"Where is…Burt? And- and Kurt?" Carole asked, and Blaine saw her wince as she leaned up. She gave a short yelp when Finn tried to lift her, but ignored his panicked apologies with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Have you- have you seen them yet?"

"No, we haven't," Finn told her, pulling her up to a standing position.

Giving another soft cry of pain, Carole gingerly touched her side, before looking up at Blaine and Rachel. A soft smile spread over her face, her eyes shining with unshed tears as Finn helped her step forward. "Oh, thank the Lord you two are okay."

Hearing Rachel sniff beside him, Blaine nodded, his throat tightening as he thought of someone who might not be as okay. "Yes, we are. And thank goodness you are, too."

"Oh, I'm not going down without a…fight," Carole gasped, suddenly clutching at her sides again. Finn looked her up and down in alarm, his face becoming quickly frenzied. Breathing deeply, Carole was silent for a moment, before holding up a hand. "I'm fine, honey. Keep going. We need to find…" she trailed off, looking to her left, and through the dimness, Blaine saw her eyes squint and then widen. "Burt!" she exclaimed.

Blaine whipped his head around so fast that he heard the tendons in his neck creak, and confirmed what Carole had said when he saw Burt Hummel on his knees, facing the opposite direction. Unable to see anything but the man's white t-shirt and scraps of a plaid button-down through the semi-darkness, he urged Rachel forward, as Finn called, "Burt! Burt! Are you okay?"

The man on the ground paid no attention, and for a moment, Blaine doubted that it was Burt; however, he noticed the nearly unmistakable bald head as he and Rachel shuffled forward slowly, and his heart began to gallop in his chest. Oh, what if he's not alive what if he's got a piece of wood through his chest and he's actually dead Kurt won't be able to handle that-

"Mr. Hummel?" Rachel asked softly, stepping tentatively forward.

Blaine examined the man cautiously, fearing that his previous train of thought might hold some truth, before he noticed that he was shaking. Craning his neck to get a better look, he also saw that Burt was hunched over something, cradling it in his arms, and Blaine and Rachel had nearly reached the shaking man when he recognized the thing in his arms.

The person.

"NO!" Blaine exclaimed, and, damning all thoughts of an injured ankle, stumbled forward to fall to his knees on the ground beside Burt Hummel. "No, no, no, NO!"

"What is it, Blaine?" he heard Finn question, but his eyes were fixed upon the thing that Burt Hummel cradled in his arms as the middle-aged man sobbed softly, his tears splashing to that previously unscathed porcelain skin. "What-"

As Finn halted, Blaine gripped at his chest with his hands, falling forward even more so, his weight supported by Burt's shoulder as he let out a strained wail of complete and utter misery. He gazed into sky-blue eyes that would never see again; that would never light up with laughter, never watch a musical, never wink, or blink, or cry.

"No, no, PLE-HE-HEASE!" Blaine shouted, his voice straining against the sobs that were erupting from his throat as his breathing hitched. "Please, no, don't b-be-" he cut himself off with a choked, heartbroken cry, his head pounding, unable to wrap around the fact that the love of his life was gone.

Those sightless eyes continued to stare upwards, at the heaven that they didn't believe in.

"Damn kid," a gruff voice said, and Blaine continued to weep as Burt Hummel simply stared down at the lifeless body of his song. "He must've- must've gotten worried about me. He should've stayed in that basement." He reached up to place his arm over his eyes, letting out a choked sob as Blaine's gaze roved over the scratches and bruises that littered the face of the boy whom he'd kissed in a common room at Dalton Academy almost a year previous. "I was asleep upstairs, and he must have been coming up to warn me about- about the storm." Burt paused once again, tears falling onto the ripped, pale-pink button down that Blaine had complimented earlier that day. Staring at the lips he'd once kissed, now bluish and dry, Blaine wailed once again. "Something hit him- his neck." Gesturing toward the peculiar angle of the head, Burt's face twisted with anguish. "Don't know what…but it- killed him."

And, at the same time, Blaine and Burt tore their eyes from the body of the boy they'd both loved; one, as a son, and the other, as his everything.

"It killed Kurt," Burt said, unmistakable finality in his voice as he uttered the one word that had constantly been on Blaine's mind since one day in November on a staircase.

Blaine heard Rachel begin to weep behind them, but he could only bring himself to care that his love, his everything, his Kurt- was gone. The boy whom he'd once gone to prom with and talked about marriage and adoption with, the boy that he was hoping to make love to for the first time on a bed of roses on their wedding night, the boy he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, was…gone.

Something tumbled loftily through the air as Blaine sobbed into his hands, and he only noticed it when it landed on Kurt's unmoving chest, coming to rest as he looked up from his palms. Placing a hand over his mouth, he shakily reached for it, realizing that it was a crumpled, damp piece of paper. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he examined it, trying to keep his tears at bay momentarily.

Blaine was holding a sketch- that damned sketch that they'd been arguing over before he'd left for Finn's game. Only, instead of an intricately designed military jacket, the dirty paper displayed a half-finished drawing of said jacket, the other side boasting a hundred little hearts, as if Kurt had become bored with the sketch halfway through. And, in the center of those hearts: Mr. Kurt Anderson.

Though he was still trying to keep his lips pressed tightly together, Blaine could not help the cry that left him as he clenched the paper in his hands, his mind chanting, Kurt, I love you, please don't be gone. I need you, I need your insane habit of taking an hour to get ready, I need your kisses, I need your smile. Please be here again.

"He's not coming back, kid." Blaine looked up into the eyes of Burt Hummel, and it really hit him, the truth crashing down on him and filling him with nearly uncontainable sorrow.

"KURT!" he wailed, sheer agony coursing through his chest, because this, oh, this was nothing short of absolute misery. Feeling arms wrap around his back, Blaine clutched onto the father of the boy he loved as his heart broke inside his chest, leaving nothing behind but the burn of words unspoken and actions not acted upon; regret.

Everything that he'd never said or never even thought of saying to Kurt was enveloping his mind as Burt Hummel held him and cried with him; all of the things that he should have said, all of the things that he shouldn't have- it all came flooding back, along with memories and kisses and fights and things that he'd never remembered before now, and Blaine couldn't help but want to be crushed under the weight of it all.

"I love you," Blaine whispered brokenly, his breath hitching as he leaned forward. Burt slowly removed his arms from the teenager and watched as he continued to lean forward, until his face was inches from that of the dead boy on the ground. "Please forgive me for not being here." Silent again, Blaine edged even closer to that once pale, beautiful face, now tacky with bruises and scrapes, and pressed the lightest of kisses to the cold cheek. "I love you."

...

So, this was unedited. I wrote all sixteen pages of this today. I just couldn't get it out of my head. I apologize if the ending is kind of rough, but I was literally sobbing as I wrote it, listening to "This Time Tomorrow" by Trent Dabbs.

Which I recommend whilst reading, if you're okay with feeling like your heart is broken.

And as for not updating The Love Dare, there have been problems with my computer lately, and I actually got a new netbook, but it was utter crap, so I have to use my defective craptop and hope to goodness that it makes it to October.