Disclaimer: The lovely people named Reed and Shane are owned by the equally lovely (and really nice and amazing and awesome) CP Coulter, and Kurt, Blaine and the name "Dalton Academy" (Warblers or otherwise) is owned by Fox. I just hope all the Ranebows don't kill me. Meep.
Reed sighed heavily, sniffing silently as he stroked the canvas with whatever color came in contact with his brush. He wasn't normally like this. Often times his paintings were laid out in a plan, and usually gone unfinished. However, today wasn't a time for routine and normality, as normal as Windsor could be.
He looked up at the picture. He grimaced, a waste of perfectly good material. The once white background was now smudged up with blues and greens, clashing horribly with the browns and yellows. Mother will kill me for this.
He sighed heavily again, throwing the brush on the far corner of the wall. He could feel tears coming back again to him, crumpling into a ball and huddling in a small corner of the room. He wanted to disappear.
The truth couldn't just sink into him, not yet. I'm sorry, Reed. One of the texts he accepted said, and he just broke. Shane wasn't gone, he wasn't. Not when he didn't tell him his feelings yet.
"You're not gone," he repeated, like a mantra. He didn't dare look up, not without seeing the ball of happiness that was Shane Anderson. The world was gray and weary, like in the movies. The room was spinning, and a low hum set in his mind, along with the mantra.
"You're not gone."
Reed.
"You're not gone."
Reed!
"You're not gone!"
REED!
"You're not gone!" he squeezed his eyes shut, trapping himself in the darkness.
It continued for god-knows-when. He could hear Kurt's and all the other Windsor boys' voices on the other side of the door, but didn't process it.
"Reed," a gentle voice said. Shane? His eyes snapped open, and the whiteness of his surroundings blinded him.
"Shane?" he asked, not really seeing anything.
"Reed!"Shane's voice seemed so, so far away.
"Shane!" he shouted, waving his hands blindly. Two strong hands caught the flailing limbs, and he felt his heart stop.
"Chill, buddy. Wouldn't want you to get hurt," the voice said gently again.
"Where are you?" he asked timidly. Shane, or whoever sounded like him, made a sort of noise, as if he was trying to solve a really hard equation.
"I... I don't know actually," he sounded so different from the Shane he knew. This one was so unsure, afraid, while his was spontaneous and fearless. A silence dropped on them, and neither was sure what to speak of.
Finally, the blonde broke the silence with the question weighing heavily on his mind. "Are you alive?"
He braced himself for the answer. Shane inhaled, and Reed just lunged at him suddenly, wrapping his arms on the younger's neck and burying his face on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," his apologies were muffled with tears. He felt his back being patted.
"No, I'm sorry Reed," Shane said, and he buried his face deeper into the shoulder.
"You're not gone, you're not gone, you're not gone," Reed whispered to himself quietly. The surroundings changed back into the normal browns, blues and reds. He looked up, blinking to make his vision clear.
"You're not gone," he muttered dazedly, now noticing the addition in his newest 'creation'.
Most of the heavy colors faded, and a few scribbles with a black pen pierced the saturation.
I'm sorry, I love you. - Shane.
He blinked at the message again, I'm sorry? Then he was reminded where he put his black marker, the bedside table.
The piece of furniture held the opened marker, and his iPhone. A new message opened up, and he was eager to read it, until he saw the contents.
I'm sorry Reed, he's gone.
Blaine
He broke down in silent tears once again, losing whatever sliver of hope he once had.
When you're gone
The face I came to know is missing too
When you're gone
The words I need to hear
To always to get me through the day
And make it okay
I miss you