IMPORTANT! Please read Author's Note before reading the story.
A/N: Okay, first off: this story is cannon. It fits in after the Shooting Star episode. That being said, you'll know at a certain part in the story (I'm not telling when or what's happening) that it will not end as bad as you think. Anyways, I would recommend some tissues and a nice fluffy Klaine fic to read after. This came to me today while I was at work and I just had to write it.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters depicted. This is a work of fan fiction.
Warnings: Klaine (—isn't together? Why?!) angst, tragedy (I refuse to say what or who, just remember this is cannon)
Enjoy!... cleaning up the tissues...
The glee club room looked different.
Blaine could see the similarities of how it used to look before the school shooting. How the basic set up of the room was the same; piano at the front of the room, other instruments off to the right, large red speakers right next to them, and the chairs were still set up on the riser-steps.
...but the differences stuck out the most.
The cabinets at the front of the room had been replaced, the wood darker than the previous bamboo ones. The walls all over the room had been painted a bright but tranquil blue that offset the new cream floor tiling that had random specks of blue in it. The trophy case still stood the same but now with two national championship trophies.
Blaine could not help but smile gently at that. They had all been so amazing coming back from... everything and won. Up holding their glee club's grandeur and claiming the title of national champions for one more year.
He continued to look out over the room, letting his eyes wander to new things or reexamining the old. Taking the time to just sit and focus on the physical aspects of the room, instead of the emotional ones that they implied. How things were changed for the sake of forgetting what they went through, to create a blank slate where other familiarities had the chance to grow.
Nervous fingers pulled at his red uniform pants in an attempt to avoid standing up and pacing. He had taken his normal spot on the second row near the speakers—Well… normal for when he and Kurt had been in glee club together; but he wanted the familiarity right now.
Blaine was waiting for Kurt. He was finally going to...
He shook his head, dispelling the thought quickly. He may have grown used to being nervous now-a-days, because he always felt nervous after that day, but he refused to allow himself to get worked up again.
So he focused back on the room.
Two plaques caught his eye. They hung on the wall next to the right entrance door, one older than Blaine's presence at McKinley and the other—was new.
He remembered his first week at McKinley and how the glee club members had told him to avoid getting Mr. Schue started on the story behind "Lillian Adler" because it always led to the flashbacks and stories about "the good old days".
What Blaine would not give to hear one of those stories right now to distract him... but there was no need, because he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He did not tense like he normally would have because the steps were slow and steady, only hesitating just outside of the entrance to the room; instead of the fast paced clicking that sent his heart into a fury.
Hazel eyes fell heavily on Kurt's form, watching him unblinkingly as the other teen looked over the room himself, noticing the changes and his face twisting up slightly to show his displeasure. Blaine made sure not to laugh aloud at Kurt's disapproval and simply sat up straighter, letting Kurt have his fill of the room before he walked just as slowly to the rows of chairs, slipping up to the second and taking his seat right next to Blaine's. His chair. The shorter teen dropped his gaze only briefly, watching as pale hands clasped together tightly over crossed legs.
He looked more beautiful than Blaine remembered.
Blaine had not seen Kurt for a few weeks and it had not been on the best of terms, so he was glad that his ex looked much better now. A lot had changed; but the most with the room and what had happened.
"These were our seats," Kurt whispered, looking down at the chair in front of him.
Blaine's lips pulled back into a grin and he settled into his chair more, "Yeah, they were." As easy as it would have been to allow a silence to settle between them, Blaine pressed on, "You shouldn't have come back, Kurt."
Kurt look up from the chair and out across the room, looking lost suddenly, his blue eyes wide with a mix of emotions. "Yeah," he whispered, fingers wrung until they were pink and his shoulders dropped, his body curving in on itself.
"Kurt," Blaine sighed as he studied the profile of the teen next to him, wanting to do more than look, but knowing that it would just make things harder on him. "You said you would come back, so I knew you would... but it doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have. You're just making it harder on yourself. On me."
"I miss you," Kurt blurted out, gaze falling to the chair again.
The curly haired teen ran a hand through his hair while he turned to look away from the other boy, "I know."
"I miss you so much."
Blaine gripped at his curls hard, eyes clenching shut as the stinging sensation of tears began. This is going to be so much harder than I thought. "I know," he whispered. "But Kurt—"
"Sometimes I wonder," Kurt pauses briefly after cutting Blaine off, taking a second to breathe out a shaky breath before continuing, "if I done it any differently—if I had listened to what you had to say or if we had talked on Valentine's instead of..." The taller teen shook his head before looking out across the room again, "Maybe things would have been different between us. Maybe it wouldn't—" his voice cracked, "—hurt this much."
"Kurt," Blaine pressed, turning his body slightly to face the other teen, "you can't think like that. It'll only—"
"It still h-hurts so much," Kurt continued. "I feel like someone is constantly trying to pull my heart out of my chest. Slowly, so I always feel it." He chokes out a sob, sucking in a breath to try and calm himself. "Sometimes I can't breathe because of the pain."
The curly-haired teen slumps back into his chair, helplessly watching as Kurt was slowly falling apart... looking more like what Blaine remembered he had the last time he saw him. Broken. A shattered image of who Kurt was; barely held together, arms wrapped around himself as if trying to not lose any more pieces.
"I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Kurt," Blaine whispered, at a loss of what he could do. He wished and wanted so badly to take Kurt into his arms to comfort him... but he could not do that. Not when he knew that if he did he would never let go again... and he could not allow that.
Kurt needed more now; more than he needed Blaine, he needed to move on.
"But I miss you more," the blue-eyed teen said, wrapping his arms around his middle and doubled over. "Instead of it getting easier, it just gets harder and more painful."
"Please," Blain whispered, pleaded, "don't do this to yourself."
"I can't let g-go," Kurt whispered brokenly, his voice beginning to waver in the way that Blaine knew he was crying.
"Kurt, don't—"
"I don't want to let go," he shook his head to reaffirm his words.
"Please..." Blaine begged.
"Why did it have to be this way?" Kurt looked up from his lap and out across the room, arms loosening from his middle.
"Kurt, please..." Blaine pleaded.
"Why can't we be together?" his blue gaze fixed on the wall next to the right choir room door, on the plaques hanging there—on one plaque in particular.
"Please, stop..." Blaine whispered.
"Why can't you be with me?" The taller teen stood from his seat, stepping down from the riser and slowly walking away from Blaine.
"Kurt..." Blaine cried.
"Why were you t-taken away from me?" Kurt sobbed stopping short of the front wall, eyes never leaving the plaque, even as his tears ran in constant streams down his face.
Blaine appeared standing next to him in a second, not needing to walk. Hazel eyes were trained on Kurt's face, willing him to hear but knowing he would not, "Please, Kurt. Stop doing this to yourself. Stop coming here." He paused, tempted to follow Kurt's gaze to the plaque but refused, "You can't keep holding onto me. You need to move on. I... I can't give you what you need anymore... but you can find someone else. They'll never love you as much as I do, but as long as you are shown you are loved every day and you're happy—that'll be enough for me. I could move on—"
"Blaine."
He stayed quiet this time, but still he did not look at the plaque. He already knew what was on it, what it said. There was no need for him to look at it... Blaine would much rather look at Kurt for as long as he could; knowing that he would leave soon, not knowing how long he would be gone—if he would come back.
"I love you," Kurt whispered, hand coming up to touch the plaque.
Blaine continued to stare at Kurt's face; watching as more tears fell and the frown on his brow deepen.
"I miss you," blue-eyes closed and his hand dropped as he turned his face from the plaque suddenly, as if not being about to look at it anymore. "I'll come back soon, My B," he promised, pressing a kiss to the plaque—to the picture on it—before he stepped away.
Blaine shuddered as Kurt passed through him and walked out. He wanted to follow Kurt, go with him; but he could not. He could not leave the room, not even to watch Kurt walk down the hall and out of the school—Blaine was trapped here. Trapped in this room until he let go.
He would not do that, not yet. Not until Kurt did.
Hazel-eyes trailed slowly to the plaque, taking it in slowly despite knowing what was on it already—by heart; knowing it so well, it was as if it was engraved on his soul.
A picture of himself staring back was set in the center of the wooden plaque, framed in a goldish metal. He remembers that Kurt had taken that photo of him on his first day of glee club at McKinley. He was smiling widely... It was a time to smile, of course. He got to be with Kurt more and make new friends, become a part of another family.
Just under the photo was a goldish plate of metal that was bracketed to the wood, words deeply engraved in it.
Blaine Anderson
1995-2013
In loving memory.
His courage will never be forgotten.
A pain shot through his chest, high and slightly to the left of his heart.
Blaine jerked his head to look at a spot near the cabinets at the front of the room, an image flashing before him. An image of what he saw after he woke up in here.
It was him, laying on the floor, the tile different and the piano closer, Sam just off to his left and holding his hand. Mr. Schue was backing away from where he was laying, hands covered in blood—blood that was on the floor too. Blood that was his.
The shooter had gotten in the room by shoot at the lock and Sam had been first in his line of sight because the speakers blocked Marley, Jake, and Ryder—Blaine had jumped in front of him.
…he did not even know how they subdued the shooter because he had been in too much pain to focus on that. Instead he saw Sam and he hurt before he went numb the next second, Mr. Schue pressing at his chest; but he had not felt it. He knew then, that he was dying.
"I love you guys. It's been a blast… Tell my parents and Coop I love them too. Tell Kurt—tell him I love him and the ring is in m-my… d-dream b-box. H-he kn-knows… where—"
He looked back at the choir room door. Missing Kurt more, now that he was left to the memory of how he died; the image of his body and having to watch as his friends mourned. Having to watch Kurt come in nearly a week later, still dressed in the suit he wore to Blaine's funeral and unable to do anything as he cried and begged and pleaded until he collapsed on the floor, unable to stand on his own.
...and all Blaine could do was watch because no matter how much he held Kurt or touched him, it was as if Blaine was not even there.
Blaine closed his eyes and sank back into his seat, appearing back on the risers in his chair. He smiled sadly when he opened his eyes again, gaze trained on the doorway Kurt used.
Kurt was never going to say goodbye. He would never let go.
"I'll be waiting, Kurt."
...neither would Blaine.
His eyes snapped open as he woke to himself choking on a sob. He rolled onto his back and took several minutes to get a hold of his ragged breathing and calm his rapidly pounding heart, while wiping the tears from his cheeks and eyes one by one.
It had only been two days since the school shooting. The police were still investigating so classes had been postponed until next week. But with everything so fresh and no resolve—nightmares were a given.
Blaine sat up slowly, pulling his sweat soaked shirt off and throwing it to the side. His room was dark, not even illuminated by the moon's light on the other side of his blinds. The lingering feelings from his nightmare caused him to lean jerkily over to his bedside table, eyes darting all across the dark room for any movement.
There was none.
His hand brushed his phone and Blaine snatched it up before flopping back down and pulling his duvet over his head. Out of sight, out of mind. Not that he saw anything in the first place.
He woke his phone with a push of a button and slid the arrow across the screen before typing in his password to unlock it: 5878.
Kurt.
Blaine pressed him lips together working them back and forth between his teeth as he went to his contacts and scrolled down to Kurt's. The brunette's face lit up the screen when Blaine tapped Kurt's name, his cell phone number just under that.
All he wanted to do was hit the little green phone and listen to Kurt answer.
"Hey, you. What are you doing up so late?"
"Had a nightmare."
"Aw, baby! Tell me about it?"
He would too, then they would talk for a least an hour of nothing and everything to get their minds off the kind of danger Blaine had been in, the emotional scarring that it left behind.
Blaine just wanted to talk to Kurt.
...but they were not talking.
Not even in just the sense that he had not pressed the button, but that they were not talking. They had not been since a week after Valentine's when Blaine finally realized that Kurt had no intention of getting back together. That he planned on dating Adam.
Blaine's screen dulled and then went black; locking itself from being inactive too long... he let it.
He pulled the duvet from over his head and turned to lie on his side, his phone still in his hand and set up in front of his face, ready for him to use it again. All he had to do was press the button, unlock it, and tap Kurt's picture. That's all he had to do.
Letting his lips go from being worried between his teeth he closed his eyes and slipped his phone under his pillow—but did not let go of it.
Maybe he would call in a few minutes.
...maybe Kurt would.
But probably not.
A/N: I think this is the angstiest thing I'll ever write... I'm actually dying inside a little bit leaving it like this...
Anyways, thank you for reading... I'm sorry if I made you cry. If it makes you feel better I cried while I was just thinking about it, while writing it, and then again when editing. Sorry. Go read some fluffy things. I have a few.
Until next time,
Anjel Starlight